


All the Night Tide

by FunnyWings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Crowley/Jody Mills - Freeform, Golden Age of Piracy, M/M, Minor Charlie Bradbury/Jo Harvelle, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Mythology and monster lore, Period Typical Bigotry, Pirate AU, Pirate captain Castiel, Quests, Selkies, Sirens, and more!, friends to enemies to husbands, some body horror, temporary major character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2020-05-13 12:02:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 72,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19250809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunnyWings/pseuds/FunnyWings
Summary: Kidnapped for ransom by his childhood best friend, Dean is eager to return home and escape the pirate ship that has become his prison. But when Castiel sets his sights on a dangerous new quest, Dean chooses to stay by his side, even if it means facing down Death itself.Excerpt:Dean had never imagined he would find himself so far from home. He had even less imagined he might find himself, for all intents and purposes, a pirate.And yet, he stood now with a uniformed man at sword point. A quick slash, and the man fell, red gushing from his throat. Dean retrieved the Navy man’s firearm, and quickly shot more adversaries attempting to board the ship. He did this for two reasons, the first being fear of what they might do should they manage to overwhelm the crew, and the second being the fear of what his fearsome captain might do to these prats should they survive the fight.At times, the captain was the kindest person Dean knew. And at times, he seemed almost inhuman in his lack of mercy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end notes for specific details surrounding warnings.
> 
> Warnings: homophobia (from character who would NOT be homophobic in SPN canon), mild violence, mentions of sex work
> 
>  
> 
> There will probably be some anachronisms, though I have put some research into this, I promise! There is a mix of SPN lore, other monster lore and mythology, along with my own spin.

Dean had never imagined he would find himself so far from home. He had even less imagined he might find himself, for all intents and purposes, a pirate.

 

And yet, he stood now with a uniformed man at sword point. A quick slash, and the man fell, red gushing from his throat. Dean retrieved the Navy man’s firearm, and quickly shot more adversaries attempting to board the boat. He did this for two reasons, the first being fear of what they might do should they manage to overwhelm the crew, and the second being the fear of what his fearsome captain might do to these prats should they survive the fight.

 

At times, the captain was the kindest person Dean knew. And at times, he seemed almost inhuman in his lack of mercy.

 

Castiel, rumored by some to be an illegitimate son of some unnamed royal family and by others some long forgotten descendant of a Pagan sea god. A man whose stormy blue eyes seemed to change with the mood of the sea. Whose grace with a blade stunned his opponents into inaction, whose quick reflexes meant he rarely drew second in a fire fight.

 

It would all be more impressive if Dean hadn’t known Cas was a street urchin who built his fortune around ransoming a member of the nobility…

 

“Think you could deal with the lot o’er that way?” Castiel shouted down at Dean, battling off three men at once. Castiel usually spoke in practiced clipped tones, purposefully difficult to place, but his natural Scottish accent made the occasional appearance in the heat of battle. Or the heat of passion, though that was something Dean preferred not to dwell on. “I don’t have all day, Dean!”

 

Dean rushed to where his captain had pointed. He’d been sent to assist Castiel’s first mate Hannah, a British Indian who called themself neither man nor woman. Hannah swiftly removed the head of one of their attackers, as Dean moved to fight back to back with them. They grinned at him, pleased at their victory. Dean grinned back, and the two lost themselves in the strategic rhythms of a good fight. Bodies fell around the two as they continued their dance, each familiar with each other’s weaknesses and strengths, and complementing the other.

 

At last they were surrounded by a pile of corpses. Dean felt the sweat drip down his back, his shirt soaked through and sticking to his body. Hannah was in a similar state, patting their skin with a dirty handkerchief.

 

“We’d better check on the captain,” they said briskly. Dean nodded and the two hurried to do just that.

 

***

 

_ Mary Winchester was a superstitious woman. _

 

_ She couldn’t be blamed for it, mind you. Her family had come to the Americas on the Mayflower, and three generations of repression and shame later, she had been born. The strict views of her upbringing had driven her to rebel in small ways, one of which was her fascination with the ships that came into port. They said in town no traveler escaped without a thorough questioning from Mary Campbell. And this was how she met a jaundiced old man who claimed he could read Mary’s future on her palm. His yellow eyes had gleamed as he told her of a visitor, one of noble stock who would take her far from home. _

 

_ Her fascination with visitors was also how she met the man she would one day marry, and in turn become Mary Winchester. It was a marriage the first man had predicted three years earlier. She swept John Henry Winchester off his feet, and before she knew it, she had returned to Britain, the country her forefathers had been driven from. Her belief in magic only grew there, and it was one she was careful to pass down to her sons, despite John’s discomfort with his children leaving out honey for the fae and locking and unlocking the doors three times each night to avoid their home being assaulted by sorcery. _

 

_ Some beliefs Mary picked up from others, and some she seemed to create herself, weaving a rich tapestry of strangeness. To her, both London and the countryside of her husband’s estate were full of odd creatures and monsters and devils, and the occasional angel sent to test their hospitality. _

 

_ It made complete sense to Dean as a child. He was precocious, and by age 10 had acquired his mother’s habit of making up stories and beliefs to amuse himself. He would regale his friends with tales of ghouls, werewolves, and vampires, and whatever other ghost stories he could think up. No one except Mary ever believed him, of course, but that only seemed to encourage him. _

 

_ And so when he met Castiel, a skinny, illiterate, foul mouthed fourteen year old, he had been convinced he had finally met a real creature from one of his mother’s tall tales. He spoke with a strange accent, and in weird tongues Dean did not know. He could not read, though he seemed to have an extensive vocabulary and an ear for other people’s conversations. He could sneak into places he wasn’t supposed to be, and he never stayed long enough for Dean’s parents to notice. _

 

_ He was an impressive friend for Dean to make. A good story that no one believed, except for Dean’s younger brother, who sometimes found himself involved in Dean and Castiel’s mischief. _

 

_ Years of quiet friendship would go by before Castiel got it in his head to kidnap him. _

 

***

 

Dean waited quietly as Anna and Rowena stitched Castiel up, the two ignoring his sarcastic criticism of their care. Cas was grateful, truly, to have the two of them, and he would thank them later, when the shame of his words grew to be too much for him. There was a gentleness about him sometimes, and no one in his crew could truly forget it was there. It was why they all loved him so much, Dean supposed.

 

Loyalty is rare in their line of work. Castiel inspired it.

 

“Aye, take care of him laddie,” Rowena muttered in passing, her eyes gone steely in annoyance over Castiel’s griping. “Wouldn’t be so badly hurt if he’d a’ let ya come to his assistance.”

 

“Hannah was outnumbered,” Dean countered.

 

“They can handle themselves, and Benny was nearby besides,” Rowena pressed. “He likes to show off, your captain.”

 

“And it gets him hurt,” Anna confirmed, gathering up the bucket of soapy water and the liquor she had used to sterilize Cas’ wounds. “Talk to him.”

 

Dean didn’t say another word until the two women had left the room. At last he turned to face Castiel. His captain.

 

“You fucking idiot.”

 

“Dean-”

 

“How am I supposed to get home if you’re dead?” Dean asked him. “You said-”

 

“A few more months, and I mean it this time, Dean,” said Castiel earnestly. “Just until I have enough.”

 

The worst part, perhaps, was that it wasn’t about that. Dean had had opportunities to escape the past five years. Some had been too risky, and others had been in places where Dean did not know enough to survive on his own and make his way back to England.

 

But one or two had been a true chance. Dean hadn’t taken it. He hated himself for it, but he hadn’t taken it.

 

***

 

_ Dean was sixteen when he started to think about girls seriously. When his family was in London, he took to spending his time with an MP’s daughter, Robin. She was incredible at the piano, and Dean had nervously asked her to teach him. The two spent days together at a large pianoforte with her instructor’s begrudging tolerance. Even after Robin’s parents firmly asked Dean’s father to keep his son away from their daughter, Dean used the tricks Castiel had taught him, the ones that got him into places he shouldn’t be, in order to keep seeing her. _

 

_ Not once did he suggest he wanted anything from her other than her music, and he truly was content to watch Robin’s hands fly across the keys and then guide his own clumsy fingers into doing the same. As his skills improved, Robin started bringing music that took two people to play. They grew better at playing together, until it felt like one person was playing, so in tune were they with one another. _

 

_ One day, after their song was over, the final note ringing in the air, she kissed him. _

 

_ Dean had felt like he floated home, his feet never touching the ground. He whispered the news to his mother, who was happy for him, but made the unfortunate mistake of sharing the story with her husband. Of course, this was when John Winchester finally snapped and announced the entire family would be leaving London and wouldn’t return for a year or more. He’d gotten sick of Dean’s flightiness, and the constant threat of Robin’s parents to ruin him should Dean take things too far with their daughter. _

 

_ Sam, Dean’s little brother, preferred the countryside anyway. He was happy to hear the news, glad he could return to see his friends there. Mary too was a little sick of city life, and didn’t protest once about the change. It was Dean who dragged his feet, and sulked, and demanded to be left behind. His best friend in the world, and the woman he was convinced was the love of his life were in London. The two people closest to him, aside from his family. _

 

_ In order to cheer him up, Sam and Mary devised a plot together in which they took Dean to a market that dealt in mystical items from far off lands. It was their last day in London, and Mary knew it would be best to keep Dean’s sullenness away from John, who was going through the stresses of arranging their travel. It was also a method of keeping Dean away from any kind of last meeting with Robin. _

 

_ Sam was a serious child, and at twelve was already determined to be grown up in a way Dean never had been. He insisted on using the money his mother had given him to buy Dean a present instead of himself, the kind of gentle selflessness that Dean had trouble sulking through. He accepted the strangely shaped amulet, golden and monstrous, and felt happy for a moment at how thrilled Sam was that he liked it. It would be the last time he would see his brother for a long time. He did not know this yet. _

 

_ The trouble was, Dean was also sixteen years old when he began to think about boys. _

 

_ Cas had gone from the skinny teenage cryptid Dean had been fascinated with, to a rather handsome man who had managed to get work as a sailor. He still visited Dean every few months, never having managed to lose a magical quality that hung about him. Over the years, Dean had taught him to read, made him laugh, and listened attentively to his stories about a world of adventure beyond England, one Dean longed to see… _

 

_ And that wasn’t the only longing he felt. _

 

_ It was the same as with Robin, in that Dean never once mentioned his affection. Never let on in case it was not returned or it was not welcome. It was a secret carried close to his heart, and one he knew Castiel would not have appreciated were he to share it. Cas had no problem being friends with Dean, but made it no secret he saw Dean as a boy, and not a man. Aside from that, it was a dangerous thing to share about oneself. Few people were actually punished for such things, but Dean wasn’t unobservant enough to have missed that men laying with other men was more than merely frowned upon. _

 

_ And once Robin had kissed him, he was quite sure he loved her with all his heart, and it soothed whatever ache had been there before at the idea of Castiel’s sea-blue eyes. _

 

_ And so when he saw his old friend in the market, he didn’t think twice about slipping away from his mother and his brother to see him. After all, if he couldn’t say goodbye to Robin, at least he could ask his best friend to tell her where he had gone. _

 

***

 

“Let me see,” Dean said, pushing aside Cas’ hands so he can lift up the bandages and check his injuries. They weren’t terrible, and likely wouldn’t even incapacitate the captain for any great length of time. Dean felt relief surge through him. “You’re fine.”

 

“I might have told you that,” muttered Castiel. “I did promise, Dean. You will get home.”

 

“And you'll get where you’re going,” said Dean. Castiel could not look at him any longer. In all the years they’d known each other, Dean had never quite learned how to read his expression. Somehow he always managed to see what he wanted to see from his oldest friend. From the man whose gravest mistakes were some of Dean’s most looked after memories. “If he’s still alive.”

 

“He must be,” Castiel said, an old argument between them. “Don’t you have anything important to do?”

 

A dismissal. It had been a long time since Dean had listened to any of those.

 

“Not in the least,” Dean said, sitting on the edge of Castiel’s bed, and tentatively reaching a hand beneath his sheets. Cas tensed, but eventually nodded, and Dean unlaced the front of his trousers. “Figured I stick around, take your mind off the pain.”

 

“Dean,” Cas said quietly. Castiel didn’t like Dean’s infatuation with him. Didn’t like waking up with Dean in his bed in the morning. It made him uncomfortable that Dean swung so wildly between hating him and wanting him, and yet he even sought Dean out now. It was something Dean knew his captain felt ashamed about, and yet the two could not keep their hands off one another.

 

Occasionally, Dean could trick himself into thinking it was love that drove them together. The truth was more complicated than that.

 

***

 

_ Once he had caught his friend’s attention in that market on the day he was supposed to leave London, Dean explained his predicament to Castiel. The man behaved more absent-minded than usual, Dean would realize later, but something lit up behind his eyes as Dean finished his story. He looked at Dean in a way he never had before, like Dean was another bit of magic he was figuring out how to pull off. _

 

_ “Why not just stay here?” Castiel had suggested lightly. _

 

_ “I can’t, Cas. Dad won’t let me,” said Dean. “Where else would I go?” _

 

_ “You could stay with me.” _

 

_ Running away was a novel idea for Dean, one he’d never entertained before. But the way Castiel suggested it, so easily and casually, made it seem like a real option. He could stay with Castiel and continue to see Robin until her parents came around on them marrying, and everything would be fine. His family would be angry at first, but he figured they’d understand soon enough. Mary had told them more than once her father had been absolutely against her marrying John, and Mary had decided to run off with John anyway. Dean had no doubts his own father would come around when he knew how genuinely Dean loved this girl. _

 

_ “Alright, then,” said Dean. There was part of him even then that was still intensely curious about Cas, too. Where he lived, what he looked like when he woke up, what foods he liked to eat. Theirs was a friendship of stolen hours, and he did not truly know Castiel yet. That would come later. _

 

_ What would happen now is that Cas would lead Dean away from the market, and have him knocked out by Charlie, a fierce thief and excellent sailor he was good friends with. _

 

_ Dean would wake hours later to find himself on a stolen ship, surrounded by rough men and women who paid him little attention. He would yell himself hoarse at Castiel’s betrayal, call his old friend every name in the book as the man he now knew was a pirate handed him a pen and paper and told him to write his family. He was being ransomed, Cas had informed him curtly. _

 

_ “First chance I get, I’m out of here and before I leave I’ll shove the sharp part of a sword up your lily white ass, you rat-bastard Judas son-of-a-bitch!” _

 

_ Cas’ shoulders tightened and he left, and if nothing else Dean was satisfied that he’d succeeded in hurting the man’s feelings. _

 

***

 

“Dean,” Charlie called from outside the captain’s quarters. “The two of us need to talk.”

 

Theoretically, Dean was a captive of a pirate ship and had been for five years. In actual practice, he was treated as a member of the crew. New members quickly learned getting into Dean’s good books was a quick way to earn favors from their prickly captain, and it never took long for people to make assumptions about the both of them. Accurate assumptions, maybe, but God help the man who said in Castiel’s hearing what they suspected was happening behind closed doors.

 

Charlie was immune from such retribution, and brazenly did as she pleased, so long as she didn’t have to see anything.

 

So Dean arriving at the door, clothes haphazardly thrown on was less a surprise to her and more of an annoyance.

 

“Let the poor man heal, mate,” she muttered to Dean. “He lost a good deal of blood today. I’m surprised anything about him is up.”

 

“Fuck off, Charlie,” Cas said from behind Dean, having pulled on his pants and sword belt to see what was the matter. Dean entertained for the moment the image of Castiel in battle this way, barely a shred of clothing and with a suspicious scowl on his face. He barely managed to restrain himself from laughing out loud at Cas’ perpetual paranoia. “Something the matter?”

 

“I’ll let you know,” Charlie said, waving him off. Aside from Dean, she was the only one on the ship who could get away with such flippancy. Castiel growled at her and slumped back off to his bed, devastatingly handsome in his irritation. Charlie looked heavenward when she spotted Dean’s hungry glance at Castiel’s well-muscled back, and dragged him after her, shutting the door behind them.

 

“One of these days,” Dean said crossly. “I’ll drag you off Jo and see how well you like it.”

 

“Just try it, Winchester,” Charlie threatened good naturedly. There was a hint of tension beneath their usual banter, and it gave Dean pause. Not much could scare Charlie, and he’d never liked a problem that gave her so much as pause.

 

“What is it?”

 

“I think I know where exactly Cas thinks he’s getting the rest of the money he needs,” she said quietly, eyes scanning back and forth for potential eavesdroppers as they made their way to her quarters. “It’s not good, Dean.”

 

The true problem with Cas, the reason his crew was so loyal and the reason he’d taken so long to return Dean to his home is that despite it all, he was almost honest. He split every bounty evenly among the crew, wouldn’t kill a man who wasn’t raring to take a swipe at him first, and wouldn’t steal from those who would miss it. It meant they didn’t go after every easy target that passed them by, only the ones Castiel could justify to himself. It meant the amount of money he needed for himself was hard to amass while paying for ship repairs and food for his crew and whatnot. It meant that Cas needed a real haul to make it to the end of his journey.

 

Dean had caught Cas at praying more than once. Any time they made land, the man had a bloodhound’s nose for any church that smacked of Catholicism. Dean was technically Church of England, though he’d learned about Separatism from his mother, along with her other, more eclectic beliefs. All in all, he’d decided God likely existed, but hell if any human had a clue what He actually wanted. Castiel wasn’t a man who had an easy road to Heaven, though, if he stood by what was preached to him.

 

Maybe that’s why Dean so frightened him. Perhaps he saw Dean as another stumbling block on his road to redemption.

 

Not that Cas had any qualms about finding himself in a man’s bed. He had managed to unofficially marry one, after all. It would be the adultery that was threatening to tear him apart. Wanting Dean was not compatible with the single-handed rescue mission he’d been on for the past five years.

 

Dean would almost pity him if Cas hadn’t exploited as much of the Winchesters’ wealth as he could to fund said mission, and taken Dean from his own potential happy ending besides. Dean had long since stopped thinking of Robin as the love of his life. He’d known the girl for the space of six months, and as the years stretched on that didn’t seem so long. She was still special to him, and the memory of that first kiss kept Dean from losing his mind for longer than he cared to admit, but she truly had become just a memory. It was his family he worried about getting back to now.

 

If only to say he was sorry. God, he was so sorry for what he’d put them through.

 

“You’re looking mighty grim, Dean,” said Charlie once they were in her chambers, the door locked behind her. “I haven’t even told you the bad news yet.”

 

“My brother turns eighteen this May,” he said back to her. She winced, though Dean didn’t blame her for his circumstances. At least not as much as he blamed Cas. “And I’m going to miss his birthday again. The last five years have been bad news.”

 

“I know, Dean,” she said. “But this is worse. Hannah told me we’re stocking up at Clew Bay.”

 

“Are they still friendly to pirates?” Dean asked with a frown. “I thought it was O’Malley’s territory. It’s been nearly a century since she-”

 

“Yes, but the islands around there abouts are still fit for landing, and the folks there won’t question why we’re buying supplies. As long as we aren’t robbing them, at least. They’ve got no love for us English, but they like the Royal Navy even less. They won’t turn us in.”

 

“And from there, where are we going?”

 

Charlie’s eyes shuttered. Dean had never once seen her so scared.

 

“A shipwreck there-abouts,” she said.

 

Dean waited a moment, knowing Charlie would break if this were some sort of jest. When she continued to look sickly and pale, he hesitated in his desire to laugh out loud.

 

“And what’s so dangerous about a shipwreck?”

 

“It’d be the parts we have to sail through to get to it,” said Charlie, as though it were obvious.

 

“I see. That clears it up,” said Dean, knowing he sounded patronizing. She glares at him. “Oh, shove the doom and gloom up your ass and tell it to me straight, Charlie. What’s the crux of it?”

 

“The crux of it is that we'll have to deal with the damn sirens, and other monsters to boot,” said Charlie. “The ship he’s going after landed on an island, the crew eaten by rats. No one’s gotten close since without some tragedy befallen ‘em.”

 

Dean did laugh this time, unable to help himself.

 

“And for shame, Winchester, when I met you there was no doubt in your mind the world was full with a million kinds of good and evil, and most of it unexplained.”

 

“And then I saw the world and realized I was wrong.”

 

“You’ve seen Rowena work her magic. How else do you think we’re so good at finding ships to rob?”

 

“I’ve seen a smart conwoman trick a desperate man who would listen to anyone willing to play along with his delusion that he will ever see his husband again,” said Dean. “Much as I like her, nothing she does is real.”

 

“And when did you become so sure? Your mother taught you better than that,” said Charlie. “You were one of the few that could tell Castiel wasn’t quite human. I assumed because she told you what to look out for.”

 

“Dear God, Charlie, you believe the rumors about him now too?” Dean asked. “He’s not a sea god, he’s a man. It wouldn’t hurt the lot of you to be a mite less superstitious.”

 

“A man he may be, but his mother was a selkie,” said Charlie sharply. “And I’ve seen the proof of that with my own two eyes.”

 

“Who do you mean?”

 

“Anna,” said Charlie. “She was so protective of him… I’d always wondered. And one day I overheard a conversation that confirmed my suspicions.”

 

“She’s the same age he is.”

 

“I knew them both when she still looked older than him,” Charlie countered, which astounded Dean into silence. Charlie wasn’t one to make up tales. She kept what she knew to herself unless it was relevant, but she didn’t lie. “And I’ve seen her in her seal skin.”

 

Dean sat down heavily, unable to truly comprehend what Charlie was telling him. It had taken so much of himself to stop believing in magic, in stories. To realize the world was much simpler than that. It was men and women making their way through it as best they knew how, and hurting each other in the process. But this…

 

“A land of monsters,” said Dean. And then it hit him. “And it’ll only get worse from there.”

 

“What’s your meaning?”

 

“Do you genuinely think Balthazar is still alive?” Dean asked Charlie. She looked away from him. “No one stays an execution for five years, no matter how well you’re bribing them. Not when the charges are piracy, anyways.”

 

“I know,” said Charlie. “I think he knows too. He just pretends not to, and keeps sending the money in case the men he’s bribing are honest. As if an honest man could be bribed.”

 

“My mum used to say there are places where the distance between this world and the next get thin. Go far enough North, and you’ll find ‘em,” said Dean grimly, suddenly trying to remember years of discarded stories. Of collected fables he used to treat with a kind of religious respect. “You think he won’t make a go of it?”

 

Charlie’s face paled.

 

“He wouldn’t dare.”

 

“And why not? He’s gotten this far,” Dean pointed out. The two sat, contemplating the idea in silent horror.

 

***

 

_ It took a few weeks before Dean realized that Castiel was relatively new to piracy. That he had in fact been an honest sailor for most of the time he’d known Dean, and had only turned from honest work once he’d met a devilish young man in a far off port, and promptly fallen in love with him. _

 

_ After kidnapping him, Cas was unable to spend time with Dean, so wracked was he with guilt over the ransoming, or so Charlie said. The redhead had taken over the job of making sure he didn’t figure out how to actually escape before the money came in. In addition, she’d taken to entertaining him so his mind didn’t wander more dangerous places in his excessive boredom. _

 

_ Charlie asked him questions, and being a young lovesick man, Dean had gone on and on about Robin. Once she’d realized the extent of their relationship was a few months of flirting and a stolen kiss, Charlie had laughed at him and told him the things she’d done to girls when she was his age. Each story had him blushing bright red. From then on, Charlie would throw her weight around, and whenever Dean tried to point out Charlie was only two years older than him, she’d tease him that she added a year for every woman she’d slept with, making her much older than his sixteen years. _

 

_ Once this got dull, Dean started asking questions about why he was there in the first place. This led to questions about the man Castiel was trying so desperately to save, and this was how Dean came to know about Balthazar. _

 

_ He was a French man with family in England who had moved to London in his twenties. He’d very quickly failed at finding any work, facing distrust on account of his foreignness. Unlike Castiel, he hadn’t been resourceful enough to survive on the streets. So he’d joined up with a pirate ship and met Cas at some small island in the Caribbean Dean had never heard of. Charlie described Balthazar as a charming ass, a man who didn’t mind being the butt of the joke as long as he could repay the favor. Somehow it seemed fitting, that dour, loyal, strange Castiel would fall in love with a man like him. Someone who brought out the more mischievous side of him that Dean himself had known since he was ten and he and Cas had gotten into all sorts of trouble. _

 

_ It was a year at sea, and ransom money still coming in when Dean realized that whatever Cas’ plan to get Balthazar back, it wasn’t working. Another year and a half after that, and Dean found himself toasting to his nineteenth birthday with Charlie and Jo and Bennie and Garth, while Castiel still avoided him. It was then that Dean finally snapped. _

 

_ Dean had tried to escape a few times, and been quickly recovered. The last time he’d tried had been a year prior, and the truth was he’d grown to be friends with many of his captors. He pulled his weight on board, so they all treated him well enough. They’d grown to trust him. That night, he determined to make sure they realized this was a mistake. _

 

_ It was late, with most of the crew sleeping after they’d dropped anchor, and Dean faked sleep long enough to convince everyone he would be dead to the world until morning. Then he’d snuck his way out of bed, and stolen Garth’s knife. Garth was a lightweight, and he’d overindulged for Dean’s celebration. He didn’t even stir when Dean carefully pried his knife from its sheath. _

 

_ He’d crept on silent toes to the captain’s quarters, where Cas was sleeping. Rather, where Cas was supposed to be sleeping. Instead he found the captain wide awake and staring at a list of numbers and names, running his hands through his hair in deep stress. _

 

_ “Cas.” _

 

_ “I’m not available,” Cas growled out, still staring at the sheets of paper in front of him with dead eyes that on closer look were brighter than they should be. As if Cas were on the verge of tears. It occurred very suddenly to Dean how young Cas was. Only a few years older than him. It reminded him of the Cas he’d grown up with. The one who had been so grateful to learn how to read, who had treated Dean as an equal worthy of his respect and friendship. It had been a long time since he’d thought of Cas in the terms he used to know him. As a friend, and not an enemy. _

 

_ “Cas,” he said, again. _

 

_ Cas turned, obviously ready to yell at whoever was disturbing him. He paused when he saw the knife in Dean’s hand. _

 

_ “Oh.” _

 

_ “Take me home.” _

 

_ “Not yet, Dean,” said Cas wearily, looking back at his notes as if Dean didn’t pose a threat at all. Dean didn’t move in yet. He knew Cas was using nonchalance as a ploy to buy time. Somehow, he’d caught Cas unarmed and unawares, something that never happened. He’d been counting on the captain sleeping, not so lost in private grief he wasn’t prepared for an attack. _

 

_ Cas’ personal knives and sword were across the room, where he’d been sharpening them. Dean moved so Cas wouldn’t be able to make a run for the weapons. His gun would be under his pillow, which Dean also made sure he was closer to than Cas was. All this meant, it would almost be a fair fight between the two of them and still weighted in Cas’ favor. _

 

_ “You don’t have an option,” said Dean. “If I have to stay awake for days with you at gunpoint, I am getting home.” _

 

_ Cas snorted, got up, and walked towards Dean until the blade was just pressed against his stomach. Dean held steady, trying to keep his hands from trembling. _

 

_ “Don’t threaten things you have no plans of following through on, boy,” said Cas, knocking Dean’s knife hand away from him and advancing forward. Dean took an unconscious step back. “If I die, so does any guarantee of you getting anywhere that isn’t the bottom of the ocean.” _

 

_ Dean kept retreating from the look of almost insane anger on Cas’ face, a little terrified despite the fact he was armed and Cas was not. He’d seen the things Cas did to his enemies over the past two years. He’d cut out men’s tongues, tied them to the hull, bled them to attract sharks and then tossed them out to sea. Once, Dean had seen him dig a bullet out of his hip with a knife and shove the piece of shrapnel through the eye of the man who’d had the bad luck of managing to shoot him. _

 

_ The only thing that gave him courage was that Cas was still guilty about what he’d done to Dean. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t skirt around the topic. He wouldn’t go out of his way to avoid being in a room with Dean, their former closeness forgotten. _

 

_ “Fucking look at me, Cas,” Dean said when his back hit a wall, and Cas’ knives were within reach on the man’s left. It was over, another escape attempt failed. And god, Dean was so angry. “You owe me that much.” _

 

_ Cas did look. And truly, that was more effective at breaking his will than threats ever would be. _

 

_ “There was no other way-” _

 

_ Cas’ excuses were cut off with a gasp as Dean slid the knife into his side. Dean let go of the handle leaving the knife inside his friend, feeling oddly detached. Then Dean sunk to the floor, not making a run for it or trying to take out Cas while he was injured. Nothing quite so practical. It was as if every support beam inside him had failed, and his body was collapsing inwards. _

 

_ “I just want to go home,” he said quietly. _

 

_ Cas’ face went white with pain. But the captain didn’t call for help yet, just carefully sat down beside Dean. To Dean’s surprise, Cas pulled him into a loose hug. Despite everything, despite the fact there was still a large part of him that hated Castiel more than anyone else in the world, he buried his face against Cas’ chest and let himself be comforted. _

 

_ “I promise whatever else happens, no matter what it takes, I will get you back to them,” he whispered against Dean’s head. But then he glanced towards his book of names. “Just not yet.” _

 

_ It would be easy to pull the knife out of Cas’ side from this position. Watch him bleed out, and then escape on one of the lifeboats. There was no guarantee that Dean would make it, but it was a plan. It could work. _

 

_ Instead, Dean looked up at Cas and did something much worse. _

 

***

 

Dean decided to wait until they had settled in at Clew Bay before confronting Cas. It would give the captain time to recover from their run in with the Royal Navy before he blew out his heart on arguing with Dean over the merits of trading one’s life for money. Dean supposed in actuality, Cas was trying to trade his life for the distant possibility of saving someone else’s life, which to be truthful he found to be even more stupid.

 

Younger ship’s hands Kaia and Krissy helped Benny to drop anchor, and Charlie sorted out who was to stay on the ship and who was welcome to row in to shore at Cathair na Mart and collect supplies. Castiel’s crew was mostly women, something he was widely hated for, as far as Dean could gather. Most women pirates at least pretended at being men, though Dean had heard when ashore at Tortuga and Port Royal that it wasn’t always hidden very well. Cas asked nothing of the sort from his crew, saying only that he’d take anyone aboard his ship so long as they were willing to play by his rules. He’d found women to be fierce fighters, and many of them he’d discovered in dire financial straits or under the thumb of men they wished to escape.

 

Dean sometimes joked they ought to call Cas’ ship  _ The Brothel _ , since it was occupied mostly by poor women trying to earn money in a most unlawful manner. Cas had chafed at the comparison, asking if that made him a madame. Dean had been sure to point out it was Cas who made this connection, and not him. It was not a joke that played over well with any of the ladies, either, and Dean had narrowly missed losing a finger to Jo in the telling, once.

 

The actual name of Cas’ ship was  _ Grace of God _ , like the choir boy he truly was at heart. It was a name that had provided Dean with no shortage of jokes at the captain’s expense over the years. His favorite was telling Cas he would be back with his family now, but by the  _ Grace of God _ . It wasn’t funny, but it put a sour look on the captain’s face, and sometimes that made Dean feel better about his circumstances.

 

Dean got ashore and did what he had learned he could do best. Once on a restocking trip he’d been mistaken by a woman trying to sell her body as a fellow prostitute. Amused, Dean had run with it and learned a great deal about the other pirate ships in the bay in the process. Dean suspected this mistake had been made because of the lack of scars on his face and body, in addition to the fact his clothing, long mended and altered, was too nice to be a pirate’s and too shabby to be gentleman’s. Either way, Dean had learned that supplying useful information was a good way to soothe Castiel’s ire.

 

So Dean put off the confrontation a bit longer, and sought out with practiced ease the part of Cathair na Mart most likely to fit his needs. He spoke a passing amount of Connacht Irish, due to Castiel’s ear for languages and insistence his crew learned what they could of any and all tongues in order to avoid being swindled in foreign ports. It was different than the Gaelic that was Castiel’s mother tongue, but there was enough likeness between the two that learning the second wasn’t quite so hard as it might have been. Cas had been teaching Dean bits of Gaelic since the two first met, and it was enough that Dean could often pass as not being English if he needed to, even if no one here would mistake him for Irish.

 

Dean did not find what he was looking for, but did find a sharp lass sitting at a bar in men’s clothing, and took to talking to her. She was too clever not to place him as one of the men come ashore, but was also a sailor herself. Sile Mhuillinn, she called herself, though when Dean struggled a little over the words offered up the name of Jody, which the other sailors on her own ship called her. She was an oddity, since few welcomed women aboard a ship. But as her fiance had gone aboard a merchant’s ship paid to chase after a gentleman’s fool’s errand, she had gone along without too much complaint and proven her worth to the crew. Dean refrained from asking her to join Cas’ own ship, due to her already having a place she seemed happy with, even though he thinks the others would have liked her.

 

It was in the midst of this conversation, and confirmation that the people of Cathair na Mart would not be cooperating with the bloody Royal Navy to hand over a few pirates (unless they made some trouble for themselves), that Dean was suddenly yanked from his chair. Jody leapt to her feet, and Dean struggled to right himself as he choked against the pull of leather cord against his neck. To his surprise Jody did not attempt to help him, and seemed to recognize whoever had attacked him. This other woman had grabbed his necklace and was now examining it, skillfully sidestepping Dean’s blows.

 

She let him drop before he could land a punch. Dean had time to take a breath and look up to her to see a woman with braided brown hair in a simple dress. She spoke a halting Irish to Jody, something strangely off about her cadence, as though she could not hear herself speak. Jody responded slowly to the girl, with simple words even Dean could follow. She was explaining who Dean was. Jody helped Dean to his feet and then told him what the woman had said.

 

“Aileen said there’s a man looking for you,” she said. “She recognizes that necklace.”

 

Dean’s blood ran cold. He never took the last gift from his brother from around his neck, and it was a distinguishing feature of his that he was usually careful to hide beneath his shirt in less than friendly ports. There weren’t a few men who were enemies of Castiel’s, and knew that killing Dean would be a blow to him. The rumors surrounding the both of them were hard to suppress, and Dean had more than once encouraged them to get under Cas’ skin.

 

Dean did not wait to find out which of Cas’ enemies had sent this woman. He just ran.

 

***

 

_ The first time Dean kissed Castiel, he had been violently pushed away. Considering he had just stabbed the man, Dean supposed that was not so surprising as it felt at the time. He knew enough not to try again. Cas had been looked after by Rowena, who he’d called to his side, and Dean had been locked away in the brig until the captain decided what to do with him. _

 

_ Dean wasn’t sure if he found it amusing or insulting that Cas seemed more offended by the kiss than the stabbing. _

 

_ Instead of punishing Dean, Cas had let the matter slip away and Dean had returned to being almost a part of the crew. Only this time everyone trusted him much less, save for Charlie who seemed to recognize Dean had done what he had done more out of desperation than malice. She also quietly admitted to him that she had overheard Cas speaking to Hannah privately about the kiss, and didn’t think it a bad thing for Cas to move on from Balthazar, who even then she did not think they would be able to save. _

 

_ Dean had assured her that if Cas moved on with anyone, it would not be him. And perhaps that would have been that, if they had not had a runin with an enemy pirate ship captained by the fearsome Bartholomew. _

 

_ Prior to that, Dean had never been involved in the fighting. He was a captive, and so he’d always been locked away below during the  _ Grace of God _ ’s attacks on ships carrying treasure or spices, or whatever else Castiel knew he could trade for money. The problem this time was that Rowena had taken ill, and her usual keen sense for direction had failed them. Cas had gone after a ship without her sayso, assuming everything would be fine, only to find that Bartholomew had already picked the ship dry and set it aflame. Once they were spotted, Bartholomew set about trying to do the same to them, in case they were carrying anything of worth he could add to his haul. _

 

_ Having no time to make sure Dean was out of the way, the pirates had run to gather their weapons and man the guns. Dean had been lost in the chaos, and for the first time in his life saw men and women die in front of him. It sharpened something inside him he had not realized was there, and somehow he rested a knife from one of the enemy pirates and joined the battle with an unpracticed war cry. _

 

_ It was sheer luck he hadn’t been killed, or even injured. It was sheer luck that while Castiel was blinding a man with a bullet dug out of his own skin, Dean took out Bartholomew, who had been approaching the captain from behind to shoot him in the back of the head. _

 

_ He’d never killed a man before. The knife went in just as easily as the knife he’d stabbed Castiel with had. Except, instead of letting the knife rest there, Dean twisted the blade and pulled it out sharply. Bartholomew dropped to the floor and the life left his eyes. _

 

_ And then Dean was promptly sick on the deck. Castiel had turned, seen what he had done, and stared at him with a strange expression on his face. Then his eyes narrowed. _

 

_ “Duck,” he said, and Dean complied without thinking. Castiel shot the pirate sneaking up behind him with a musketoon. The fight continued, and soon they had chased enough of Bartholomew’s crew off to their own ship, and forced them to sail away through the force of the ship’s guns. Afterwards, they took stock of prisoners and who had survived through the raid. _

 

_ Dean had breathed a sigh of relief when he’d seen Charlie no worse for wear, but for a cut across one cheek. _

 

_ Aside from being the first time Dean would assist the crew in defending themselves, there was nothing especially unique about this. Nothing except that much later that night, Dean found Cas at the door to his room. He let Cas in and watched him stand angry and still, as if waiting to strike a lethal blow. He wasn’t afraid Cas would actually do this, but Dean did feel a wariness rising up in response to Cas’ posture. _

 

_ “You aren’t supposed to be on deck when there’s fighting.” _

 

_ “That’s an odd way to thank someone,” Dean had said back, knowing he was pushing his luck. _

 

_ Cas turned on him. _

 

_ “What if you had died?” he demanded. _

 

_ “It’d be much harder to get the ransom money from my parents when your letters are no longer in my handwriting, I imagine.” _

 

_ “Your life is not another one of your jokes, Dean,” Cas said, nearly pulling his hair out in his frustration. “I command you never to put yourself in the way of danger in some misguided attempt to protect me, do you understand?” _

 

_ “Oh, you  _ command _ me. As if that will ever make a difference. I’m a prisoner, not a member of your crew,” said Dean, almost surprised at his boldness. He’d killed a man that day, and as terrible as that made him feel, it also gave him an odd new perspective. Anyone could take his life at any time. Any moment could be his last. For the rest of his life, he wouldn’t spend a minute without knowing how easy it was to die. It was strangely freeing. _

 

_ “I don’t know where this strange inclination came from that you could manipulate me by… by putting yourself in danger or trying to charm me-” _

 

_ “God,” Dean laughed. “That’s smart. Smarter than I am anyway. You think I kissed you as part of my escape attempt? You think I saved you thinking you’d repay me?” _

 

_ “Well, didn’t you?” Cas asked, looking off balance for the first time since the conversation had started. _

 

_ “No. I- It was years ago. I think it was your eyes that did it,” said Dean, laughing at himself quietly. “Two months before you kidnapped me, you came back for a quick visit. I’d already decided I loved Robin, of course, and I did. But I couldn’t help thinking if I didn’t love her, it would be nice to love you.” _

 

_ “You were in for a rude awakening.” _

 

_ “I was,” Dean admitted. “But even that didn’t make all the rest of it go away. It just made me angry at myself for loving someone who could hurt me so thoughtlessly. Do you really think I wouldn’t have helped you with the money, somehow, if you had just asked me, Cas?” _

 

_ “I-” Cas said, lost for words momentarily. “They were goin’ ta kill him. I panicked.” _

 

_ Dean remembered burying the knife in Bartholomew’s back. He swallowed around the tightness in his throat. _

 

_ “I know the feeling,” he said. Cas stared at him. He stared and stared, and Dean wondered what he could be thinking. _

 

_ The first time Castiel kissed Dean, it was a timid press of lips. It shocked Dean, how uncertain he was. Cas could be a fool sometimes, but he didn’t do things by half measures. Even Castiel didn’t seem to know what he had been attempting with his actions. In fact, he looked ready to bolt, as if he was a coward and not one of the most steadfast men Dean had ever known. _

 

_ “Apparently, I really should have tried to charm my way off the ship,” Dean said at last. “Seems like it might have worked.” _

 

_ “But yar just-” Castiel said, sounding at war with himself. “You’re just  _ Dean _.” _

 

_ There it was. Cas had never reevaluated how he thought of Dean. He could see that Dean had firmly entered adulthood with his eyes, but his mind was struggling to make the connection. The dynamic between them had shifted without Cas noticing, and he was floundering trying to understand why he wanted someone he’d considered only in terms of friendship before. He’d avoided Dean through the two and a half years Dean had spent on the pirate ship becoming his own man, and was now having to face him. _

 

_ “It’s only just occurred to you I’m not a boy anymore?” Dean asked him, catching Castiel’s eyes with his own. Stepping forward and daring Castiel to take a step back from him. Castiel stood tall, but not quite so tall as Dean did, Dean realized for the first time. “Did it take me killing a man for you to realize I’d grown up?” _

 

_ The second time Castiel kissed Dean was nowhere near as gentle as the first. Dean did not mind. _

 

***

 

Dean was faster than Aileen, and thank God for that. He made it back to where the other pirates were loading up supplies. Benny and Jo were the first to notice Dean running at them like a wretched soul freed from hell, and Jo drew her cutlass in preparation for whoever was running behind him. Likewise, Benny soon had his axe in his hand, and it wasn’t long until Dean was by their side and Garth tossed him a sword of his own.

 

Aileen slowed, seeing she was outnumbered. She showed the palms of her hands, indicating she had no weapon, but ignored the questions Benny and Jo were yelling at her. Dean remembered the way Jody had spoken to her, and how her voice had seemed off to him, and quickly told the others he thought she was deaf.

 

“Why was she chasing you?” Jo asked, storing her sword when Aileen turned and walked off quickly away from the group of pirates. Dean kept his eyes on her, still wary of an attack. He only looked away once she was out of sight.

 

“She recognized this,” Dean said, pulling his necklace forward, the small golden idol shimmering slightly in the sunlight. “Didn’t know how, but figured if she’s in the ears of anyone out to deal Cas a bad hand…”

 

“I take your meaning,” Jo said. Her eyes went over Dean’s shoulders. She drew her cutlass once again. “She’s got friends.”

 

Dean looked back to find that Aileen had indeed returned with others. She walked towards them with Jody, and two men. One of the men Dean did not recognize. This one was very tall, with floppy brown hair and a pained expression. The other made Dean groan in annoyance.

 

“Crowley,” Jo muttered under her breath, and Dean couldn’t help but agree with the vehemence in her voice. Crowley was on the right side of the law, but only just barely, and it wasn’t their first run in with him. It was hard to avoid him actually, seeing as how Rowena was his mother, and he’d never forgiven her for that. He’d tried to hand them over to any number of authorities over the years on account of having her on board.

 

The man Dean did not recognize was scanning the lot of them, eyes lingering on the few men in the crowd before finally focusing in on Dean. As soon as he spotted the necklace, sheer joy crossed his face. Even more confusing, he started towards Dean, with no mind for the fact fifteen or so pirates were ready to cut him down before he got close enough to Dean to hurt him.

 

“Dean,” he said, and there was something familiar about the voice. It took Dean a short eternity to place it, but when he did-

 

He shoved Jo from in front of him and sprung forward, unable to truly believe this might be his brother. The tiny runt Sam had been at twelve was long gone, replaced by a man with impressive height who had not grown into his overly large limbs yet.

 

“Sammy?” he asked. Sam nodded. Neither seemed to know what to do, and so Dean did the thing he’d wanted to do since he’d been missing. He hugged his little brother, wishing only that his mum and dad were there too, and all of them were reunited. “How the hell did you find me?”

 

“I hired…” Sam said, gesturing behind himself at Crowley and Aileen. “They heard a rumor that awful pirate was heading North, and Clew Bay used to be a pirate stronghold, and we figured-”

 

“You hired Crowley?” Dean said, unimpressed. “Might as well have called the Devil himself and been done with it. But by God, am I glad to see you Sam.”

 

“Our ship’s headed back to England tomorrow,” Sam said quietly, looking to the group of pirates staring at them, bemused. He looked scared, and Dean tried to find some way he could tell his brother that all things being equal, no one was likely to hurt him unless he started up something. Even then, they’d probably dismiss him as too young to know better, and nick something off him so he’d learn his lesson about picking fights with folks bigger than you are. “We can hide until then, make our way-”

 

Dean realized his brother’s plan quickly.

 

“I can’t, Sammy,” he said. Sam stared at him. “Not- not yet.”

 

“I’m here to rescue you.”

 

“And I appreciate it,” said Dean. “Any other time-”

 

Sam’s face went cold and disbelieving.

 

“Dad- Dad said it might be like this,” he said slowly. “I told him he was wrong.”

 

“Oh and Dad said what exactly?”

 

“That you ran away and you weren’t ransomed at all,” said Sam. “It’s why he stopped sending money a whiles back. Said you were an adult and you could take care of yourself. Mum sends what she can, but not what Dad will notice. We figured since we kept getting letters and hadn’t gotten any of your fingers in a box, you were still alive and whole, then.”

 

Dean remembered suddenly finding Cas the day he’d stabbed him. How overcome he had seemed by the numbers. A terrible feeling perched at the periphery of his being. Because Cas had said he still needed Dean around, and if not for money, then what for?

 

“Oi, sod off,” said Dean. “I didn’t ask to be kidnapped. I tried to get back home.”

 

“I’m offering you a way home  _ now _ . And you aren’t taking it.”

 

Sam’s impassioned shout did not go unnoticed. Dean sensed a presence at his side, and didn’t have to turn to know it was Cas. Cas in all his swashbuckling, clearly a pirate glory. Cas who reached for Dean protectively, placing himself subtly between him and Sam and Crowley.

 

“Can I ask what’s happenin’ here?” he asked, taking in Crowley’s involvement with a snarl. “I heard there was scum ashore.”

 

“Castiel. Say hello to my mother, will you?” said Crowley, making it sound like a threat. Cas’ hackles raised in response, and Dean wished he could find the words to tell him to knock off trying to give Crowley a scare. Because Sam was looking at him real hard, and Dean didn’t much like the looks of his expression.

 

“Say hello to my cutlass, ya c-” Cas started to curse back, cut off by a well-aimed punch to the face. He fell backwards, more out of surprise than the actual force of the hit. Sam towered over him, prepared to kick in Castiel’s ribs it looked like. If it weren’t for Dean there, he might have managed it, too.

 

Dean quickly dragged him back, ignoring Sam’s wild jabbing at him that stopped when he realized it was only Dean.

 

“I’m going to bloody kill him,” Sam said, sounding like he meant it too. And Jesus, Dean could understand anger, he had been there, but this seemed a bit much. Especially as he could see that Dean hadn’t been truly mistreated all these years, even if he wasn’t allowed to go home. “Chop his knob off and-”

 

“My God, Sam, when did you get so bloodthirsty? He’s not so bad, Cas. You do remember him before all this right?” Dean said. Sam seemed to be ignoring him, instead struggling to get at Cas and beat the living daylights out of him again. Dean shook him, and Sam tried to take advantage of this to loosen Dean’s grip. God, the kid had gotten a lot stronger than when he was twelve. “Listen, Cas was in a tough spot. It doesn’t make it right, what he did, but he didn’t run off with me for the fun of it.”

 

By now, Cas had got up and was watching Sam warily. Some of the other crew members were there now, and it was probably Cas’ strict orders not to cause trouble in town that had kept a full on brawl from breaking out, especially with Crowley being the one behind it. There was more than one member of the crew that owed a beating of their own to the smug Scotsman, now grinning at Sam trying to get around Dean.

 

“I might have let slip a few rumors,” Crowley said to Dean. “Nothing I didn’t have on good authority.”

 

Dean blanched. When he had spent time encouraging the whispers about him and Cas, it had been only to annoy the captain. He hadn’t thought on what might happen should Sam hear them. Or his mother. Or his father, Dean shuddered to think. Aboard the  _ Grace of God _ , there was no true need to think over how one’s actions might be viewed outside the crew. Justice was dealt with in-house, and Cas wasn’t about to start throwing stones from his own glass house of preferring men to women. More than that, Dean knew Cas didn’t see a problem in the crime that couldn’t be named. Never had, no matter how much notions of Godliness seemed to affect the rest of his outlook.

 

It wasn’t as if Dean thought differently, and he wasn’t ashamed. It was only that he had never planned on explaining his appetites to any member of his family.

 

“For shame, Crowley, as if you never tried to buy me away from Cas,” said Dean nervously, casting about in his mind where to start with this sort of thing. “Not realizing my body was not and never has been for sale.”

 

Suddenly, Sam looked like he very much wanted to kill Crowley as well. Which was closer to being on the same footing as Dean was, if not entirely there.

 

“I didn’t realize,” Sam said coolly. He looked towards Jody, who seemed a bit peeved as well. “Did you know about this?”

 

“Aye, I knew he weren’t picky. But I didn’t know he were in the habit of buying from those that were selling.”

 

“I wasn’t,” said Crowley, and seemed honest enough in saying so. “I was in the habit of making that damn pirate’s life a living hell, and it wasn’t hard to see how to do it. There’s a price on Dean’s head from Uriel’s crew the last I heard of it. He’s an easy target. Besides, my love, I am still trying to turn over a god damned new leaf, or have you forgotten?”

 

Crowley trying to become a decent man. And Dean thought he’d seen everything.

 

“I’d believe you better if you hadn’t just set poor Sam here on a man that could have killed him in the hope that Cas would die first,” said Dean. “As if you didn’t know he’d try to start a fight he’d only lose.”

 

“I would win,” said Sam, clearly still intending on castrating Cas. Dean, who had a vested interest in this not happening, made sure not to let Sam lunge at Cas as he clearly meant to, instead tripping his brother and making sure he stayed on the ground with a boot on his back. “Ow!”

 

“Whatever Crowley has been whispering in your ear,” said Dean to his brother, who looked seriously affronted to have been knocked over. “There is only one thing you need to know about me and Cas, and that is that he has never touched me without my sayso.”

 

He let Sam up, and then walked past his brother. He still stood in front of Cas and the crew instead of among them, but it was clear what he meant by it. He was staying with them.

 

“It isn’t natural,” said Sam, though he looked confused now. Like a kicked puppy who didn’t understand what he had done wrong. And Dean could understand some of it from his point of view. He thought, misguided though he might be, he was avenging his brother after a hideous violation on Cas’ part. He couldn’t conceive of a world in which a man would want another man without some evil or desperation being the driving force behind it.

 

“Neither is your freakish tallness. What’ve Mum and Dad been feeding you?” said Dean, which just made Sam’s frown more pronounced. “And where can I get some myself? I’d like to be a giant, as well, towering over other men.”

 

“Shove off,” muttered Sam in annoyance, and that at least was familiar. Finally, his gaze shifted over Dean’s shoulder towards Cas. “Crowley tells me there are whispers you’re going into dangerous waters soon. North. Is this true?”

 

Cas was silent a moment. Dean didn’t turn from watching Sam to see his expression.

 

“Yes,” Cas said.

 

“Then whatever strange affection you feel for him,” said Sam, nodding in Dean’s direction as if it weren’t obvious who he was talking about. It wasn’t encouraging, Sam’s vague disgust with Cas, but it was a step up from Sam’s previous insistence on murder. “Can it be enough for you to spare him from that danger? Let him go home, Castiel.”

 

“Take him then,” said Cas, to Dean’s great surprise. Cas shoved him roughly towards Sam, Crowley, Eileen, and Jody and turned back to his crew. “Do we have what we need?”

 

They nodded mutely at him. Charlie looked like she might speak, but a sharp look from Cas convinced her to keep her silence.

 

“Back to the ship then,” he said. “We’ll set up camp on one of the islands.”

 

Dean turned, wondering what madness had come over Cas. All this time he’d asked to be delivered safely home, and only now was Cas relenting? Dean’s certainty that Cas was entertaining certain notions, ones  of retrieving Balthazar should he prove irretrievable in this world, returned to him.

 

“I’m not so easily rid of, Cas.”

 

Cas did not look back at him before giving his next order.

 

“Anyone who lets Dean on board loses their share of the next few hauls, and risks getting dropped off at Port Royal and left to join what ship will take them,” he said, because apparently Dean was so easily rid of. So easily dismissed he did not even warrant a goodbye.

 

***

 

_ Sometimes, Cas was kind. _

 

_ He was never terrible to Dean, mind you. Not in bed at least, and not in the way a lover could be cruel to a person. Sometimes he was a bad friend, and sometimes he was a bad captain, and sometimes he was a bad person. It wasn’t hard to be these things in the life they lived, and Dean found eventually he couldn’t exactly say he was above reproach morally either. He had killed men that maybe didn’t deserve it in order to protect friends that he knew had likely earned the justice he prevented them from facing. But all this to say, Cas would laugh if one were to suggest he were anywhere in the realm of sainthood. _

 

_ But sometimes, in the dark of night when for a few moments Cas could imagine not even God was watching him, he could be terribly soft-hearted. _

 

_ He would forget his guilt over the man whose arms he should be in. Forget how determined he was to maintain the sanctity of a marriage very few would recognize as valid, with a partner who could well be dead already if the men Cas was bribing were lying to him. He would even forget his paranoia, his wary certainty that unfortunate circumstances were always headed his way. That he was being punished for some indiscretion or other, and cursed to remain wary until the day he died. _

 

_ Instead, Dean would hold him and Cas would smile at him in eternal surprise. As if he were lucky to be there beside Dean. Sometimes Dean would break this smile with reminders of the things Cas didn’t let himself think about. The fact that Dean had not chosen to board the  _ Grace of God  _ of his own free will. The fact that once Balthazar was released, he would know Castiel had been with men other than him, if he did not know already. Those nights were when Dean was at his angriest, and Cas’ expression would grow bitter and resigned, and he would leave Dean in his bed and drink heavily at his desk, looking over the cursed numbers that were never high enough to buy Balthazar a pardon or an acquittal. _

 

_ But some nights, Dean wouldn’t say anything of the sort. He’d bask in Cas’ attention, press kisses against his neck, and laugh when Cas would turn from him, face slightly red in embarrassment at the affection. Or they’d sleep together, and Cas would whisper sleepy endearments into Dean’s shoulder. Or he would drag his fingernails through Dean’s hair and down his back, and tell him old stories or sing racy songs with a perfectly innocent look on his face. When Dean had asked if Cas understood the songs he was singing, he’d faked shock at Dean’s interpretations, insisting there was truly nothing untoward about them, all the while the twinkle in his eye giving him away. _

 

_ Sometimes, Dean would admit he loved Cas, and to his credit, Cas would always treat this sentiment gently, even if he never said it in return. _

 

_ One night in particular, Dean was sharing a story about his mother’s run in with a gwyllon, when suddenly he felt Cas rumbling with laughter beside him. It was just at the part when he had explained his mother had banished the creature by drawing a knife. _

 

_ “An iron knife, maybe,” he’d said. “Or silver, those bite. But not just any knife.” _

 

_ “It didn’t really happen,” said Dean, a little unsettled Cas was critiquing his story. “She just liked to make up stories, my mum.” _

 

_ “So you don’t think will-o-the-wisps and gwyllons haunt the Welsh countryside?” Cas asked. “Leading travelers astray in the dead of night?” _

 

_ “There are too many monsters of this world for me to believe there must be ones from beyond it,” said Dean. “Aren’t men bad enough?” _

 

_ And Cas had stopped laughing then, though there was still something mischievous in his eyes. _

 

_ “Aye, I suppose they are, at that,” he’d said at last. “But you left honey for the fae and lived a blessed childhood.” _

 

_ “Yes, but I owe my  _ good _ luck to men, too,” said Dean. “Though I’m sure some creature enjoyed the honey, little though they could repay me.” _

 

_ “You’ve never been sick a day in your life, Dean. I’d say that’s repayment enough,” said Cas, his eyes lingering on Dean’s body, which it was true had never failed him. What that had to do with anything, he didn’t know. “Though I’d rather not run afoul of your mother, if she carries a knife about her for dealing with spirits. She sounds truly fearsome.” _

 

_ “Don’t mock me,” said Dean playfully, digging his elbow into Cas’ side to scold him for his jokes. “She’d know you were a man, regardless of what stories she comes up with. She wouldn’t mistake you for a fairy as I did.” _

 

_ Cas’ eyes had widened a little at this. He looked at Dean in true surprise. _

 

_ “And what do you think of me now?” he’d asked. _

 

_ “It’s hard to forget you’re only a man when I am frequently reminded of your manhood,” Dean had muttered, rather wittily he thought to himself. He could almost feel Cas’ annoyed frown against the crown of his head. He curled against Cas’ side regardless, suddenly caught with the beginnings of sleep. _

 

_ Dean heard Cas mutter about whether he was a man at all, and only held him tighter as he considered what to say in response. He did not take it for the confession it was, only as a fear of what God might make of him. Of his actions, not who he was. Dean thought whatever Cas feared about his lack of humanity might be the same thing that drove him to churches, as though he were constantly seeking forgiveness. _

 

_ “You’re no less of a man than me,” Dean said. “As good and as bad as that may be. The rest of it is luck and making the best of it, I imagine.” _

 

_ Cas had considered that, gently smoothing his palm along Dean’s back as he did so. _

 

_ “Maybe we really are, all of us, truly a little monstrous,” Cas said, and Dean had missed then that he wasn’t included in this us. That Cas was referring to himself as a very different creature. “And that’s just to be lived with.” _

 

_ Dean had yawned lazily and stretched his arms before turning slightly and pulling Cas against his chest. Because it seemed true enough to him that monster was just what men called things they did not like about themselves. _

 

_ “That’s the truth of it,” he’d confirmed, before planting a final kiss to the back of Cas’ neck and letting the familiar sway of the sea lull him to sleep. _

 

***

 

Dean supposed actually trying to swim out to the  _ Grace of God  _ was his first mistake.

 

Sneaking away from Sam to do so, and undergoing the entirety of his foolish scheme late at night were equally idiotic, though that had seemed the correct way of things when he had come up with the idea. He had every intention of returning with Sam eventually. He could see where he was not wanted, no matter how angry that might make him. He only wanted Castiel’s assurance he would not travel farther North than the living were meant to go. Or do anything else equally stupid.

 

And so he’d slipped out the window of the inn Sam was staying at, avoiding Aileen who was waiting up in the hallway to make sure no pirates would come during the night to give Crowley the beating he was very much owed, nor hurt his fiancee. Dean supposed he would be glad to make Jody’s further acquaintance on the journey home, and it would be fun to tease Sam for the stutter that seemed to take over his speaking whenever Aileen so much as looked at him. She was slightly older than him, but not much so, and she did seem to smile a bit more when Sam was in her immediate vicinity. The two could speak in a kind of signing language, one of British and maritime origins that Dean vaguely recognized, even though he did not understand it.

 

So there was that to look forward to once he got over the misery of Castiel pretending Dean meant less to him than the dirt beneath his feet. He might never care for Dean in the way Dean wanted him to, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care at all. That much Dean knew, even if he was still nursing hurt feelings over Cas banning him from the ship.

 

He removed his shirt, trousers, and boots at the shoreline, hiding them from sight so he might find them when he returned. He hoped he would only be swimming one way, and Cas would do him the favor of letting him collect the things he had acquired over the years and be rowed back to shore the next morning. The ship was his best bet, because he didn’t know which island Cas might have chosen to let the crew rest on, and the ship was an obvious and familiar shape in Clew Bay. It couldn’t be more than a mile out, and Dean had swum further before.

 

There was a sense of foreboding, come to think of it, when he entered the water. He dismissed it as the chill of the night air and cold sea, and began swimming. His kick was powerful, and his strokes were long, propelling him through the water with practiced efficiency. Learning to swim had been necessary once he found himself surrounded by water most of the time, but it was also something Dean had been surprised to find he loved dearly.

 

He swam, and the  _ Grace of God _ grew closer. As did a small rocky island another half mile out, though he did not notice it. Without knowing why, Dean changed directions subtly. It felt as if there were whispers in his mind, seductive and tender, that he did not know were there until he had swum past Cas’ ship and continued on towards the rocky island further on.

 

Dean wanted desperately to stop swimming and do what he had come to do, and yet a deeper part of himself wanted to reach the island. Damn everything else, he had to set foot on its rocky shores and see what was there. He had no sooner pulled himself from the ocean and onto the small landmass, than a beautiful man poked his head from behind a rock.

 

He seemed wary of Dean, though his confidence grew as he saw Dean standing there, slack jawed and in awe of the stranger. His eyes glowed a deep and hypnotizing blue-green, and there was a doubleness to him. He was both a singularly attractive man, and a grey-fleshed, hairless humanoid figure. The right-wrongness of him added to the dizziness building inside Dean’s mind, until he was forced to sit down to keep from falling. Function felt beyond him.

 

“I know what you need,” the man crooned to him, and Dean knew he must be a siren. It did not help to know what was happening to him. He found himself helpless to fight the draw of that voice, the sincerity of it. He crawled closer, his mind growing more and more fractured as he did so, a headache building behind his eyes until he felt near blind. Yet, he still could not resist, and he had no weapon to defend himself with in any case. He was entirely at this creature’s mercy. “I could spend the rest of your days with you, and you would be loved. So very cherished. And I’d ask so little in return. Just that you bring me back a few heads, to prove you love me, truly.”

 

The siren’s ruined lovely hands scratched down to the nape of Dean’s neck, feeling so very much like Cas’ hands. There was nothing for it, but to look up with wide-eyed whited out vision, and perceive more than actually see as the siren leaned closer, as if to steal a kiss…

 

Behind Dean, the sharp bark of a seal distracted the siren long enough for Dean to fall at his feet, clutching his head in pain. He saw Anna pull herself from the waves, pale in her near nakedness, a bronze dagger in hand. She had a fierce look in her eyes, a certainty that gave the siren pause. He looked at Dean in the same manner a hungry man might look at the food of the party the next table over. Finally, he slunk back into the shadows, and Dean’s headache faded into a dull throbbing pulse of discomfort.

 

“You are uniquely daft, aren’t you?” Anna asked him, sheathing her dagger as she approached him, and helping him to his feet. “Didn’t Charlie tell you we were close to siren hunting grounds?”

 

“She didn’t tell me how close,” Dean murmured, doing his best not to be violently sick. Anna watched him in disquieted concern, kneeling beside him and gently prodding at his face and throat. She stiffened as she caught sight of his hands and pulled them towards her.

 

On the back of it were swirling designs lined with indecipherable characters. The writing grew slowly up his wrist and stopped there, pulsing a pale silver blue and then fading to black. Dean’s previously unmarred skin now sported an ominous tattoo of dubious origin.

 

Anna dropped his hand as if it had burned her. She peered at him, lost between several emotions Dean was too lost in his own discomfort to identify.

 

“I’m afraid, lad,” she told him quietly. “You might not yet be so suited to leave us.”

 

“What did he do to me?” Dean asked, staring at his hands in horror.

 

“It’s not that siren that did it,” she said. “And you’re right the siren was mighty close to shore and no good reason for being so, as foolish as it was for you to go swimming at night anywhere near their territory. Something’s gone amiss.”

 

Her eyes again fell to his hands, which pulsed pale silver blue once more.

 

“And I’m afraid you’re at the center of it.”

 

***

 

_ Words of love were quick on Dean’s tongue when he was buried inside Cas. When he felt Cas collapse on top of him, the weight of him was pleasant as Dean continued to buck up into him, until he found release with a sharp bite to the captain’s shoulder. He loved him, he loved him, he- _

 

_ Their breaths slowed as Cas moved off him, not moving far, just holding Dean against his strong chest. Cas might treat him like a stranger in the morning, but for now he seemed so brimming with restrained affection it was hard not to imagine that he might feel something in the way of love for Dean, even if it were not the real thing. Even if the truth was Dean was a distraction from the slow-creeping horror of being unable to save the man Cas really loved. _

 

_ “Have I told you the story,” he whispered into Dean’s hair. “Of the sylkie and the angel?” _

 

_ “Sounds like one of your own creations.” _

 

_ “No, it’s an old Scottish yarn,” Cas lied merrily, and Dean smiled at the farce. “How dare you doubt me?” _

 

_ “Let’s have it then,” said Dean, amused at Castiel’s wry humor. Sometimes there was joy between the two of them, and Dean clutched to those moments like a drowning man clutched at gasps of air. Dean looped an arm around Cas’ waist and closed his eyes, waiting for the story to begin. _

 

_ “A sylkie found herself ashore,” Castiel began. “Never the wisest of decisions, but the seal-women like to lie on the rocks and feel the warmth of the sun on their faces. This sylkie was careful, and no one had managed to steal her seal skin before this day. _

 

_ “A cruel man, by the name of Alasdair, crept upon her and caught her sleeping in the afternoon sunlight. Careful not to wake her, he found where she had hidden her skin and left with it, cursing her to remain a woman until he returned it. For three days he demanded use of her body as payment for it, and for three days she refused, living upon the kindness of several nuns who had found her wandering naked on the road and hidden her from their sisters so they might take care of her without risking the curiosity of more strangers who might visit ill upon her. _

 

_ “One of these nuns, Haele, was a sweet girl who believed most fiercely in the after. Her prayers became solely about the sylkie, and she argued most persuasively for the seal-woman’s plight. An angel took notice of these smartly worded prayers, and the selflessness of the woman’s request. He appeared to her in a dream, and asked that she bring the sylkie to a cliff where he might speak with her himself, warning her not to spy on his true face lest she lose her own eyes. _

 

_ “Haele brought the sylkie to the cliff, and left her there with a promise she would return in an hour or so. Once Haele had made her retreat, a beam of sheer light fell down from the heavens. From it sprung an enormous creature, with three sets of golden-brown wings and four faces. One was an eagle, one the face of an amber eyed big cat, one the face of a three eyed insect whose species had not survived the flood, and a final face which was a reflection of God himself. The sylkie was stunned by his beauty, not knowing that he was stunned by her in return. _

 

_ “He told her how he might seek to help her, and the sylkie thought a long time on his offer. She did not know whether to trust him, but she knew that Haele had promised that angels were powerful and true, and would not go back on their promises. She agreed, and let him take residence of her body so she might reclaim the missing piece of herself using his power. _

 

_ “Together, they enacted bloody revenge on the man who had dared to touch her seal skin, and the sylkie delighted in the power running through her veins as the angel delighted in the touch of her grey soul against his grace. The two parted with the tenderness of lovers, not knowing the strength of their affection had by some magic left a child in the sylkie’s womb.” _

 

_ “A fish fell in love with a bird,” Dean said, laughing at the thought. “Now I’ve heard everything.” _

 

_ “Quiet,” Cas muttered, annoyed at the interruption. “Seals aren’t fish, Dean. And angels certainly aren’t  _ birds _.” _

 

_ “Close enough.” _

 

_ “I haven’t finished the story,” Cas growled, slightly exasperated now. Hiding his mirth, Dean kept quiet and, after a while, Cas continued. “Once she realized what had happened, the sylkie returned to shore to give birth to a son. The angel graced her with his blessing, and upon their son he promised a long fulfilling life. He could not know the danger he was placing his son in by acknowledging the union. Others of his kind saw the child as a most unholy monster, a mistake of creation, broken and useless and horrifying to think of. _

 

_ “His parents protected him, of course, but his mother belonged to the sea and his father belonged in the heavens, and he belonged nowhere. So he found ways to belong wherever he found himself, and became an eternal wanderer, cursed to keep only just ahead of the danger that followed him by virtue of his father’s blessing of a long life.” _

 

_ “A sad ending,” said Dean quietly. He wondered if he had taken Castiel’s meaning correctly that it did more harm than good for two people so different as themselves to entertain notions of love. Castiel was a roaming scourge of the oceans, and at heart Dean wanted a solitary place to call home, even if he did sometimes find himself enjoying the adventure of a life at sea more than he could ever imagine. “It’s lucky neither of us will suffer the inconvenience of pregnancy.” _

 

_ Castiel’s solemn silence was broken then, as he laughed seemingly despite himself. He settled in beside Dean, soon softly snoring into the hollow of his neck. It was terribly endearing, Dean thought to himself as Cas shuffled closer when Dean’s hand began to lightly pet his shoulder. _

 

_ But the story stayed with Dean and settled unpleasantly at the back of his mind. He turned the details over and over again, long into the night. It wasn’t until light began to peek through the porthole in Cas’ cabin that Dean felt the coldness Cas’ strange tale had created inside him begin to retreat. _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning clarifications for Chapter 1:
> 
> -Sam is written with some homophobic attitudes he does not have in canon. He will grow out of them, but he does struggle to understand why a man would want to be with a man, and calls sex between men unnatural once. He is one of the few characters that will exhibit period typical attitudes towards sexuality, partly because I'm writing Cas' ship as a kind of bubble of acceptance for outcasts.
> 
> -The violence isn't very gory or explicit in this chapter, but future chapters may be worse.
> 
> -There are brief mentions of sex work, but none depicted. There is a joke made by Dean about calling Cas' ship The Brothel (as a reference to Dean calling Cas' car the pimpmobile). If anything comes across as disrespectful to sex workers, please let me know so I can edit it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mild homophobia (attitudes not actions), minor character death
> 
> For further detail check end notes.

It was surreal, holding on to Anna while she sped through the water in her seal form. The only thing that kept Dean from being ill was focusing on maintaining his hold on her slippery leather-like skin. Finally, Anna got to water shallow enough for Dean to let go and stagger his way to shore. Soon a woman stood beside him holding her seal-skin in her hands and vanishing it impossibly before Dean’s eyes.

 

Dean trudged forward, deciding to accept what he had seen for the moment and question it later.

 

“Castiel,” he said, not knowing how to finish his thought. He let the captain’s name hung in the air between them, as Anna watched him thoughtfully.

 

“Castiel,” she agreed. “Do you know much more than Charlie told you?”

 

“He told me once,” said Dean, struggling to continue putting one foot in front of the other. “About you and his father.”

 

Anna smiled a moment.

 

“Yes. His father,” she said. “Gabriel. A beautiful fool. I liked him very much.”

 

“Was he really… Was he really an angel?” Dean asked quietly, not knowing the nature of such a question. When it was just a story Castiel had come up with, Dean did not have to wonder on the meaning of its truth. On the fact that angels were beings as real as men, and they did visit Earth on occasion. More and more, Dean was beginning to wonder if his mother had known something he did not. He remembered sometimes now that Mary’s stories, although they couldn’t all be true, had all been informative. They were instructions for which creatures were harmless enough and which needed to be dealt with, and how to do such things. Instructions a child would understand in a way that would not bore one.

 

She had always told them be kind to angels but wary of them. They may be agents of God, and so merciful, but they were not merciful in the ways men were and there was no saying what they might take offense to.

 

“Aye,” said Anna, her gaze fixed upwards. “In more ways than just the one.”

 

“And Cas-”

 

“Cas was a wonderful mistake,” she said. “Understand Dean, Gabriel and I both loved him more than anything else in the world, and that turned out to very much include each other. But neither of us could take care of him. He couldn’t stay in one place for any length of time, or men of faith came to kill him on seraphs’ orders. He didn’t inherit wings or seal skin. Nothing that could have let him stay with either of us. He was just born, miraculous and perfectly human.”

 

“Not perfectly,” Dean said, having realized himself when he was of the mind to believe such things that Cas was not quite ordinary.

 

“Close enough,” said Anna. “I had a dear friend Haele look after him for a long time. But an angel came to her in sleep, and told her to kill my boy if she wished to enter the kingdom of Heaven. She tried to do it.”

 

“Ending the friendship, I’m sure,” said Dean.

 

“Ending her  _ life _ ,” Anna retorted, an animal viciousness taking over her features that chilled Dean to the bone. Yes, ended the girl’s life. He’s more than certain Anna saw to that. “And so reached the Heaven she wanted to go to so desperately. By then Castiel had learned he could trust no one, and went from place to place, never staying long enough to be known and hunted down. And then he met you.”

 

“And will now be wishing he hadn’t,” said Dean. Somehow he couldn’t bring himself to make the same wish. It was so very confused, and sometimes Dean wondered what it would be like if he had had no money for Cas to need of him, and instead he had just asked Dean to follow him to sea. Maybe loving Cas wouldn’t feel so much like he was deluding himself.

 

Before Anna could respond to this, the two were spotted by Alfie, a young boy and recent addition to the crew who had been assigned watch duty along with Claire. She looked unimpressed to see Dean, though she nodded at Anna.

 

“He’s not allowed,” she said, ignoring Dean’s presence. Dean wondered if she was still angry with him for winning their last card match, or if she truly feared Castiel’s consequences, as if the captain didn’t treat her as something of an adoptive daughter. Then again, Cas had not hesitated in following out threats he had made before, and to crew members who had been in good standing.

 

“Get the captain and tell him I say something has happened that requires his attention, lass,” said Anna impatiently. Alfie looked to Claire, who nodded after a moment. She stood her ground in front of Dean, and he really was beginning to suspect this was about the card game.

 

“It’s not my fault I’m better at gin rummy,” Dean muttered. He knew he was right when this aside left Claire instantly incensed.

 

“You cheated,” she accused.

 

“Of course I cheated! You need to learn how to cheat better than the person across from you. Has losing taught you nothing?”

 

Dean stopped teasing the poor thing when his hands glowed again, and the strange writing crawled a little more up his wrists. Claire stared at him, astounded. Dean’s headache returned full force and he fell into the water, his legs unable to support him. He felt himself dragged ashore by two sets of hands, Anna’s and Claire’s. Once there he coughed up the water that he’d near breathed in when he fell.

 

“What’s wrong with him?” Claire asked fearfully. Dean wanted to reassure her, but found his tongue wooden and his thoughts too jumbled to speak sensically.

 

“Hard to say yet,” said Anna. “But I fear Dean has been preyed on by two creatures tonight, a siren and something I have no name for yet. It doesn’t bode well for the rest of us as far as our journey North goes.”

 

“I don’t recognize the writing,” said Claire, picking up Dean’s hands. She dropped them when the writing pulsed again, and Dean shouted at the pin prick pain that traveled up and down his spine. His head felt heavy and swollen, and as if it were being pierced by pins at all sides. Finally the feeling seemed to abate, leaving Dean curled up on the sand, clutching at his head.

 

“I do.”

 

Dean was too exhausted to lift his head and acknowledge that Cas was now standing over him. He felt, rather than saw, the captain kneel beside him. Cas gently lifted up his hand, tracing a spiral pattern and then turning his wrist. He gently placed Dean’s hand down again and then lifted Dean into a sitting position. Dean’s eyes opened slowly and with great effort, and he took a little solace that there was more concern than anger in Castiel’s eyes.

 

“You should have gone home, Dean,” he said.

 

“I had to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid in my absence,” Dean said weakly.

 

“By doing something stupid in my absence?”

 

“I only meant to swim to the boat,” said Dean. “And make sure you had no intentions of visiting the land of the dead.”

 

Anna’s sharp intake of breath is confirmation enough that Castiel would do something so terribly short-sighted as that. It was hard to reconcile the idea that this woman was Castiel’s mother with her youth and fierce temper. Dean had not thought before speaking that perhaps this was a conversation he should have with Castiel where his mother might not hear. It was one thing to be a reckless fool, and it was another to have your mum shout at you for being a reckless fool.

 

“I-” said Castiel, his eyes glancing at Anna and away again. “There won’t be need.”

 

“What does it say, Castiel?” Anna asked suddenly. She looked furious at him, as if somehow Dean’s circumstances were evidence of Castiel’s poor choices. As if she had the vague notion the writing meant something, even if she did not know quite what. He looked at her blankly, purposefully giving little away. “The writing on Dean’s hands, what does it say?”

 

Cas looked at Dean and then back to his mother again. He made his decision, and Dean could see before he spoke that he had decided to speak the truth.

 

“It’s instructions. It’s for a map.”

 

***

 

_ Dean spotted Claire and Kaia, young rascals that they were sneaking into the map room to cause mischief. He had half a mind to call Cas down on their heads, but knew that it was hard for the girls when the winds were in the  _ Grace of God’s _ favor, as they so frequently were, and there was little enough work to be done. Better they try their hand at stealing one of Castiel’s books than do as Krissa had convinced Jack to do and hand a rope off the starboard side of the ship so he might touch a dolphin. _

 

_ Cas had been livid. Or at least he had for a few minutes before Jack’s quiet apologies had softened Cas up to a minor punishment of cleaning the privy for a fortnight. Jack had taken it on the chin and promised to do right from then on, so help him God. _

 

_ Dean sometimes thought Jack was a mite Puritan for his tastes, though considering his own ancestry it felt hypocritical to criticize the boy. Even if he was a bit too upstanding and penitent for his own good, he wasn’t as obnoxious about it as he could be. _

 

_ Up to a quarter of the crew were between the ages of ten and sixteen at any one time, which was a much higher percentage than usual, in particular for a pirate ship. The Royal Navy liked to have boys aboard their ships so they could train up men who would spend their lives in the service of the crown. They’d pick boys off the street sometimes, knowing the promise of three meals a day was enough to tempt orphans into dangerous professions. It was how they had found Cas in his seventeenth year, as he’d proven himself to be strong, quick-witted, and with a stomach for fighting. _

 

_ Cas was a different sort with his ship. He’d let any child with no other place to go find a spot among his crew, if they wanted, and whether they were needed or not. Jo and Charlie joked he was the patron saint of lost children. He and Charlie had found Jo towards the beginning of his career as a pirate, when she tried to pick his pocket. She’d stared him down cool as ice when he drew his knife on her, and made her return his things. She’d been right shocked when he offered her a job. _

 

_ Charlie always told Dean that she fell in love with Jo the moment she saw her playing dumb and using her good looks to swindle pirate bastards, and had in fact encouraged Castiel to have his pockets picked so they might recruit her. Castiel refused to confirm this, sparing either Jo’s dignity or his own. Jo had been slow on Charlie’s wooing, not used to attention from women, but had decided she returned Charlie’s affections about a year after Dean’s kidnapping, and the two had been happy since then, as far as Dean could tell. _

 

_ Dean slipped off his shoes and crept quietly to the map room, imagining he might give Kaia and Claire a good scare. He watched the two ladies whispering between themselves as they looked over one of Castiel’s maps. It was simple to avoid the creaky boards in the room’s flooring, making sure to match his steps to the steady rocking of the ship. He waited until he was right behind them before speaking. _

 

_ “And what do you girls think you’re doing?” _

 

_ They both jumped a good two feet in the air. Kaia got to stammering excuses, surreptitiously calculating her and Claire’s chances of escaping before Dean could call for Cas. Claire only called Dean a few rude names and stormed out. Kaia, realizing Dean had no immediate plans to turn them in followed after Claire, mouthing a thank you at Dean as they left. _

 

_ Dean’s eyes fell to the map the two had been looking at, one in a long book of them. It was open to an oddly shaped land with five rivers running through it. He didn’t recognize the shape of the lands depicted, nor what language it might be in. Each character was part of a spiral pattern of letters. Quite pretty, but unreadable. He wondered if it was in some kind of code, though it looked to have been printed and bound and must then have been published, unless Castiel had access to eccentric cartographers or tools of his own to attempt this oddness. _

 

_ He flipped the pages back, and saw on the first page that the book had been signed in that strange language. Fluid pen strokes wrote before it a simple ‘To Castiel.’ _

 

_ “What are you doing?” asked an annoyed voice at the door. Dean flipped a page and kept looking at the book, refusing to act as if he were in trouble. It was ironic, he supposed, that he be found for the very misdeed he had scared the girls off of. _

 

_ “Cas, can you read this?” Dean had asked, pointing to one of the maps. Cas shut the book firmly, and Dean’s fingers narrowly escaped the closing. “Oi, Cas.” _

 

_ “I’m sorry,” said Cas, though he didn’t look it as he placed the book back on his shelf, in its right place Dean was sure. “It was… I didn’t know my father very well, but it was a gift from him to me.” _

 

_ “A bit useless,” Dean said gently. _

 

_ “All the same,” said Cas. “He… he was a wee bit paranoid. It’s in Eno- It’s in a kind of code.” _

 

_ “I could tell that,” said Dean. “Though I’ve no idea what the maps might be depicting. The geography was unrecognizable.” _

 

_ Cas’ face had gone pinched, and Dean had felt sorry for pressing. Clearly Cas’ relationship with his father was a touchy subject, and he wouldn’t be surprised if the man had been a bit mad. Cas had found himself on the streets at a very young age, and that didn’t happen without reason. _

 

_ “Though I do have a good reason for being here,” said Dean, changing the subject. “Jack had broken in and was looking through your books for one to read. I’d suggest you put him and the other young ones off to some job or other, or find something for their minds to do.” _

 

_ Cas sighed and nodded, though he looked grateful to Dean for understanding he didn’t wish to speak about the book of maps. _

 

_ “Aye, I’ll deal with the bairns,” he muttered to himself. “I saw Claire and Kaia giggling and up to no good as well.” _

 

_ Dean hid a smile, not wanting Cas to catch him in a lie. He liked Jack, truly, it was only he sometimes thought the boy could use a spot of trouble to sharpen himself against, Cas being so soft on him and all. Cas was stern with Claire in the way men who knew how unfair the world could be for women were, and because he knew she had the constitution for it. Jack was too guileless to draw true ire, and so drew little censure for his mistakes. _

 

_ Still a mite underhanded to blame him, though Dean suspected Jack would have agreed to take the fall in order to spare Claire another long-winded lecture, if he had been asked. Kaia, though she seemed to come alive with Claire’s friendship, was good at acting the shadow and never drawing attention to herself, and Dean knew she would be fine. _

 

_ Cas sent him off then, and followed behind, locking the map room behind him. Dean had thought little of it from then on, especially as the captain had let him steal a kiss while not behind locked doors later that afternoon, a rare enough occurrence that it quite overtook the earlier events in importance in Dean’s mind. _

 

***

 

Cas ordered one of the boats to be prepared to be rowed to the  _ Grace of God _ , where Jo, Benny, Hannah, Kaia, and Jack had been staying to ensure the ship was not attacked during the night. As the preparations were made, he had Rowena make up a potion of some sort to ease Dean’s pain, which came and went as the strange writing continued to creep steadily up his arms.

 

Alfie came running half an hour later, and soon before they were set to leave, to say that a boat was rowing towards shore. Castiel drew his sword to meet it, and Rowena’s potion had worked well enough that Dean managed to stumble behind him to see what might be the matter.

 

It was lucky he did, or Aileen might have not been so willing to wait for an explanation. Dean caught sight of Sam tied up and knocked out in her boat, and she explained to them that the bloody fool had signed to her in the middle of her rowing out to find where Dean had run off to that he heard a pretty girl on a rocky island a ways out. He’d tried to convince Aileen to row out to her, and when she had ignored him had attempted to jump from the boat.

 

“He’ll be an angry siren. Two meals he’s hooked and then missed out on. We’ll need to warn everyone to plug their ears at night,” muttered Anna. Aileen squinted at her, trying and failing to read her lips. Anna spelled out the word in S E I R E N with finger signs while mouthing the letters, and Aileen took her meaning soon enough.

 

“That explains it,” she said, nudging Sam with her foot, though she did so gently. “Crowley and Jody are taking out a boat of their own, though Crowley’s stomach has trouble with the smaller boats.”

 

“Why did you follow me?” Dean asked in Connacht Irish, careful to move his lips slowly.

 

“He sees you’ll not be separated from your captain, even if he can’t understand why,” said Aileen in halting and strangely accented English. To Dean’s relief, she knew English better than he knew Irish. “And Sam plans to be a thorn in your side until you’ve come home. Jody took an interest, and Crowley supposed he might be along if Sam were to continue paying his salaries. Me being in his employment, I’m also to come.”

 

“I’ll not have Crowley on my ship,” said Castiel. “And Dean-”

 

He looked at Dean a long moment, then tore his eyes away, forcing himself to speak slowly for Aileen’s benefit.

 

“Dean is free to choose where he might go. After we figure what has happened to him.”

 

“Crowley will be coming all the same, when Dean chooses to stay aboard as he will do,” said Aileen knowingly. “For he knows what’s become of the pirate Balthazar, and he told me to tell you he will be willing to trade that information for his own safety aboard your ship.”

 

The man himself arrived shortly after this announcement, and Cas did not wait to bodily force the man out of his boat and through the shallows to shore, ignoring Jody drawing a firearm on him as he tugged Crowley upwards by the shirt and demanded his answers. Crowley kept his cool easily, knowing that although Cas would harm him, he was not truly a killer unless the occasion called for it. Dean thought perhaps Crowley did not understand the hatred Castiel held for him, though even so he could not fault the man’s command of his expression. He looked positively bored at Castiel’s threats.

 

“I’d appreciate, darling, if you were to put me down,” he said. “It’s good news I’m bringing, if that helps.”

 

Cas roughly let the man go, and Crowley smoothed his shirt and jacket carefully before continuing.

 

“I thought for a while after meeting Jody that perhaps I did not like the man I had become,” he started. “But I had little enough idea about how to become a better one. So I thought I’d start with an olive branch to the first person who had wronged me.”

 

Crowley nodded towards his mother, who watched him with wary eyes.

 

“Leave Rowena out of this,” hissed Castiel.

 

“It’s easy enough for you to say that,” said Crowley. “The woman has been nothing but good to you. She abandoned me, and I find her years later with some imbecile she’s decided she liked better for a son. Did you ever stop to imagine how that made me feel?”

 

Jody reached out to touch Crowley’s arm, just for a moment. Cas looked dispassionate.

 

“Not all of us attempt to kill the parents that disappoint us,” he said in return, which was harsh but hard to condemn him for considering his own upbringing. Dean had trouble not feeling a little sorry for Crowley, despite it. “Tell me about Balthazar.”

 

“I was getting there,” said Crowley. “In any case, I decided to make amends and thought the best way to do that would be to stop by London and check that your little pet weren’t dead yet. It would mean something to you, and so would mean more to her than anything else I could bloody do.”

 

“And?” Cas said through gritted teeth when Crowley stopped there. Dean found it hard to believe Crowley wasn’t enjoying keeping Cas in suspense just a little, whether he was trying to be a better man or no.

 

“And I found him to be executed that day, as luck would have it,” he said. “And managed to argue his way to a month’s delay in the proceedings. I studied law, you know. I’m very good at talking.”

 

“You’ve proven as much tonight,” said Cas, though he did not mean it as a compliment. “How long ago was this?”

 

“A week,” said Crowley. “A few men had been fired just before then, caught taking bribes from pirates. Then, you already knew that, or you wouldn’t have your heart set on a foolish venture such as this one. I assume you were the one paying them off?”

 

Cas’ willingness to let Dean leave made startling sense now, though it hurt Dean to think about. He no longer needed the ransom money, what little of it Mary had been able to get to him, because Balthazar would only be saved now by an enormous amount of money. His death couldn’t be bought off and delayed any longer, and the only solution was to find some way to get his sentence commuted. There was no need for Dean anymore, and whatever else Dean had imagined to be between him and Cas was just that. Imagined.

 

“Aye,” Cas said quietly. “Aye. Thank you.”

 

It took Crowley by surprise, clearly, that Cas would thank him for this. His cool biting demeanor slipped a moment into a kind of confusion.

 

“You’re welcome,” he managed at last. “Well, not welcome-”

 

“You can come aboard, but you won’t have a say in anything,” said Cas succinctly before Crowley could ruin the fragile peace now formed between them. “And if I hear you bothering Rowena, I’ll throw you over the side myself.”

 

“Fair enough,” Crowley had agreed.

 

Just then, Dean’s arms pulsed with light once again, the writing scrawling up to his shoulders as he collapsed to the ground, no longer able to support his weight. The pain was dulled by Rowena’s potion, but nowhere near enough for his comfort.

 

“What in God’s name is that?” came the sleep slurred voice of Sam Winchester, who had only just come to consciousness.

 

Castiel looked back at Dean grimly, and Dean read in his eyes he had the same question.

 

***

 

_ After Dean’s fourth or fifth time managing to be involved in the process of fending off men from enemy ships (though he refused to take part in the plundering), Cas had at last taken him aside and told him he must learn to fight properly. _

 

_ “I fight well enough.” _

 

_ “You’ll die well enough, too. Your only advantage is you don’t know all the ways a man can kill you, so you attack without guarding yourself and that surprises them,” said Cas, not a little cruelly. “And I’ve told Hannah to protect you besides. They are not pleased at constantly having to watch your back as well as their own.” _

 

_ This stung Dean’s pride, though he tried not to let it show. He was even more miserable when he was made to practice with wooden swords along with Claire, Krissa, Kaia, Jack, Alex, and Alfie at their own lessons. As he was heavier and stronger than the children, Cas always partnered with him while instructing, but it was still humbling to be considered no more skilled than a child with a blade. _

 

_ He asked Castiel to spar with him constantly, and never felt as if his skill was increasing with the speed he wished it would. He began asking Hannah to spar with him as well, a request that was met with a sourfaced look and eventual agreement. Hannah was near as skilled with a blade as Castiel was, and they were less likely to be kind to Dean. Oddly, their willingness to knock Dean on his ass when he made a mistake was a greater teacher than Cas’ patient explanations were. Dean started to realize which motions were punished with the bite of Hannah’s wooden sword and through experimentation learned to correct them. _

 

_ Soon, even if he couldn’t truly give Cas a run for his money, he was at least making the captain sweat during the training sessions. Wanting to make up for his lack of skill, Dean had gone to the other pirates on board and asked them how they survived in a fight. Benny’s strategy was his strength and quick reflexes, in which he tried to deal the killing blow before his opponents might try to take advantage of his clumsy footwork. It was why he preferred an axe or a gun to a cutlass. Jo was often underestimated due to her size, and she made sure to play into this misconception until she saw an opportunity for a killing blow. Charlie had a thief’s talent for misdirection, and fought with a sword and a dagger. While an enemy pirate was lost in thought over defending themselves from her cutlass, they would not notice as she stabbed them in the soft parts of their bellies. Once they fell, she would finish them with her sword through their chest. _

 

_ Dean thought this last one would work best for him. Although he was not as skilled with a sword as Charlie, his hands were clever and quick as hers, and he knew he could hide a wooden dagger on his being without Cas being the wiser. He suggested as much to Charlie, who laughed at the plan and agreed to help him. _

 

_ She had fashioned a small wooden dagger for him, and helped him to hide it in his belt and under his shirt. She’d also found reason for Castiel to insist she help the young ones with their training that day, so he would think it was his idea of her watching Dean spar. _

 

_ It began as it usually did, with Castiel dominating the fight and Dean struggling to hold him off with varying levels of success. Dean managed a few good blows after several minutes had gone by, putting Cas on the defensive at last. While Cas watched his sword for the next strike, Dean pulled the knife from his belt and pointed it at Cas’ stomach, where he had stabbed him so many months before. _

 

_ Cas stilled, eyes wide at the trick. Then he broke into delighted laughter, the widest smile on his face Dean had ever seen. _

 

_ “A dirty trick,” he said out loud, though he failed entirely to sound disapproving. _

 

_ “A good trick,” Dean countered. _

 

_ “Aye, that too,” Cas said, his eyes roaming over Dean’s face. “You might finally be ready for a fight.” _

 

_ “I won against you,” said Dean. “I’m ready for any fight. I’m like to lose some but… I’ve never seen a man fight better than you. So against anyone else, I’d always have some sort of chance.” _

 

_ “Aye,” Cas had said again, his wide grin having faded to a small smile by then. “I think you would.” _

 

_ The way Cas had looked at him then, Dean didn’t dare put a name to it. Didn’t dare hope that maybe he was more than just a friend to Cas, more than just a warm body to hold at night and be kept at arm’s length in the morning. There was such warmth to it, as though Dean, after all this time, was a pleasant surprise to Cas. _

 

_ “I’ll have to fight Hannah next,” Dean said, as an excuse to break the moment between them. _

 

_ “They won’t be near as pleased as I was,” warned Cas, looking away from Dean at last. He focused instead on assisting Claire and Kaia on their stances, and helping Alfie adjust his grip while partnering with Jack. _

 

_ Later, Dean had pulled Cas aside. Cas had looked at him warily, as he sometimes did when Dean came to him and they ended up in bed together. There was the underlying understanding that Cas saw Dean as a temptation he was failing to deny himself, and although Dean found this insulting it didn’t stop him from seeking Castiel out. _

 

_ This was not that, however. _

 

_ “I want to make a deal,” said Dean. Castiel’s mouth had twisted, and then he nodded, ready to hear Dean’s request. “I know you promised to get me home. I want to go home. But from here or from there, I will help you get Balthazar back, and our lives will be tied together until the moment he is returned to you or gone forever. You have my word on that.” _

 

_ “And what do you want in return?” Cas had asked, both curious and cautious. _

 

_ “You will help me repay my family the money that’s been lost to them,” said Dean. “Not all at once of course. In time, every penny will be returned to them to the best of our combined abilities. And of course that you hold to your promise to let me return to them without complaint once you have freed Balthazar or when he is dead, or when it would be a better strategy to have me plead his case from my home instead of ransoming me here.” _

 

_ Cas’ wariness faded slowly. He thought of Dean’s request, keeping silent as he did so. Dean resisted the urge to fill the space with chatter, and was rewarded for his patience. Castiel nodded his agreement, and the two men shook on it. _

 

_ “Why do you want to help me?” Castiel asked eventually. Dean had just looked at him and remembered that afternoon, and the way Cas’ eyes had shined clear blue with mirth when Dean had bested him. _

 

_ “You know already,” said Dean, leaving it at that. _

 

***

 

The writing had reached Dean’s neck and down his torso by the time he and the others got to the  _ Grace of God _ , and into Castiel’s map room. Dean was pushed into the cushioned chair Cas used for reading sometimes, and gratefully lolled his head back, wishing he could sleep. The pain racking his body had exhausted him, and the late hour wasn’t helping.

 

Castiel called for Charlie, Anna, Rowena, and Hannah. He seemed to accept that Sam would not leave Dean’s side, and that Aileen would not leave Sam’s while he was in danger of being overpowered by pirates. Hannah slid into the room gracefully behind the others, shutting the door before Crowley might also attempt to enter.

 

Cas approached Dean carefully, as if Dean were a wounded animal.

 

“Dean,” Cas said, prodding him gently. “Dean, can I take off your shirt?”

 

“I suppose,” Dean had slurred, his words clinging to each other as he failed to think clearly through the awful pounding in his head. Cas waited. “Yes, Cas. See how bad it is.”

 

Cas carefully lifted and pulled away Dean’s shirt, much gentler than he was when they slept with each other. Dean said as much out loud, incurring another murderous look from Sam in Cas’ direction. Cas ignored both of the Winchester brothers, his own attention focused on the markings on Dean’s skin.

 

He pulled a book from his shelf, a book of maps. Dean recognized the writing, both from memory and from the script that now covered his skin from fingers to neck to waist. He saw Cas rip the binding, and let the loose pages fall upon the table. He picked up Dean’s hand and matched the script between the two, beginning to compile the pages into a larger map that fit together haphazardly, with much overlap and redundancy. It would have been near impossible to put together without whatever Cas was using to guide him, ostensibly the symbols on Dean’s body.

 

Anna watched incredulously as the larger map was built. She traced her hands over the lines, her expression growing ever grimmer as Cas worked.

 

“Your father gave this to you?” she asked him. Cas’ silence was answer enough. “Cas…”

 

“It’s directions,” said Castiel, as the map began to take shape diagonally across the table, the map depicting a narrow path due northwest of their current location. “To find him, if… If I need him.”

 

“The long way to heaven,” said Anna. Castiel nodded eagerly, as though begging his mother to understand. “And no guarantee you’ll survive along the way.”

 

“Anna,” said Cas.

 

“No, I am your mother,” she said. “Even if I haven’t always been there, I know enough of what that means to tell you that this is a hopeless dream and you will be disappointed when you finish it. You won’t get any answers, and he won’t help you recover Balthazar, should he have passed on when you reach your destination. He’ll promise he loves you and then send you away again to solve your problems for yourself.”

 

“He helped you,” Cas said desperately. Anna’s eyes did not soften.

 

“Aye. He helped me, and has had nothing but trouble for it. He loves you enough to keep you alive, and that is the whole of it,” she said. “He loves you enough to show you the way to him by printing directions on the skin of your lover, but not by telling you himself. These are not the decisions of man who has it in him to be brave anymore.”

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

“I know better than you,” Anna thundered at him. Castiel did not cower under her fury, instead standing tall and certain against her conviction. The anger left Anna as suddenly as it had come. “You were born so small.”

 

Mother and son stared at each other, willing the other to break. Their battle of wills was broken by Sam, who had gone a little slack-jawed at Anna’s declaration.

 

“You’re his mother?” he asked. “What are you? Vampire or-”

 

“A sylkie,” she said immediately, and proudly. Sam still looked perturbed.

 

“Selkie. Seducer of mortal men. A creature of sin flung from the heavens,” said Sam. “Whose form is rumored to be the punishment of fallen angels.”

 

“Not every hunter’s tale is true,” said Anna, taking offense to the implication that she was in the habit of seducing men, as well as the notion that she was a fallen angel. “And I’d thank you to remember it, and your mother, too. Damn Puritans, seeing a naked woman and assuming she is a temptation sent for your disapproval and religious betterment and not someone simply enjoying the afternoon sun!”

 

Sam frowned uncertainly at her, but had the wisdom not to respond.

 

Dean wondered what exactly Anna had meant by calling his mother’s stories hunter’s tales. He’d never heard the word hunter used in the way she seemed to mean it. Sam hadn’t seemed to need an explanation either, which further confused Dean.

 

“Hunter?” he asked.

 

“You were a dream-addled lad, weren’t you?” Anna asked. “Did you really think your mother told you stories about wee beasties and how to kill them to entertain herself? You did know she believed them?”

 

“Of course she believed in strange creatures,” Dean said. “But some of the stories were just… She was just making them up. A silver bullet to kill a werewolf by moonlight, she never actually did that!”

 

He looked to Sam for confirmation and found it sorely lacking.

 

“It’s not always by moonlight,” was all Sam said in response. “Just mostly.”

 

“And I suppose you’ll tell me next that you’ve killed one as well,” said Dean, not buying it for a moment.

 

“Yes, just last year, actually, and other creatures besides. Mum taught me all she knew, what she’d learned from our grandfather when she lived in the colonies. After a member of the fae took her firstborn, she decided I should know how to take care of myself,” said Sam, which stung in its damning appraisal of Dean’s ability to take care of himself. “Dad never could convince her that Castiel was just some street scum you hadn’t been smart enough to avoid.”

 

“And what’s wrong with being street scum?” asked Charlie, using every inch of her small stature to stare down Sam as though she might teach him a lesson then and there. “Not everyone is born earning money on the backs of others. You haven’t had to work a day in your life. Every penny you own is made from your estate. The rest of us have to get by, too.”

 

“Is honest work so hard to come by?” sneered Sam at her. “That you have plunder hard working men-”

 

“It is,” said Aileen, startling Sam. He had not noticed her eyes darting back and forth to try to follow the conversation, or that she was now staring at him with a sort of dismay. “For some.”

 

“But you aren’t a pirate, Aileen,” he said, clearly taken aback that she would not side with him on this. “You don’t murder whoever gets between you and what isn’t yours.”

 

“Seeing out Crowley’s interests is still far from honest work. Or at least, it wasn’t before he met Jody,” she said back. “But I needed to live somehow, and not all of us are suited for roaming the streets and begging. At least not without inviting attention of those that would do us harm. It’s hard being a woman with no money and no family, Sam.”

 

Sam appeared cowed at this explanation. Dean took advantage of the pause in order to ask his own questions. He would speak with Sam later, he thought. For now he needed to know what Castiel planned to do with his map to the afterlife, and how he might stop him. He also would like to know why it was his skin the instructions to decode this map had been printed on. The writing had not faded, though it seemed to have stopped growing for now. Every so often it pulsed weakly, though the pain was beginning to fade.

 

“Cas,” Dean said, drawing the captain’s attention instantly. “Why is this happening now?”

 

“I think… I’m of a mind that it was the deal we made with each other,” said Cas. “That until Balthazar was returned to me, or lost forever, your life was tied to mine. It’s a kind of fealty. Perhaps you were chosen as a messenger-”

 

“I’d like to be unchosen, if that’s the case,” said Dean.

 

“It doesn’t make sense,” said Charlie. “We’ve all sworn loyalty to the  _ Grace of God _ and to you as our captain, Cas. Why him? And why directions to where the dead rest? We still have time to rescue Balthazar without resorting to such means.”

 

“It’s not so hard to guess,” said Anna. “Your dear father chose a man who would never willingly leave your side to be his messenger. And it’s a warning, I’m sure, to your lover of what he might do should he hurt your feelings.”

 

“Ah, Cas has feelings now?” said Dean, trying to play off his panic with a smirk. “I’ve never noticed them before.”

 

A short burst of pain raced through the symbols scrawled on Dean’s body. He couldn’t help but flinch.

 

“That would be Gabriel,” said Anna wisely. “Overprotective and shortsighted to a fault. He’ll think this is funny, he will. Payback for when you stabbed his son.”

 

“You stabbed him?” Sam exclaimed, sounding ever more confused with every detail that came to light about Dean and Castiel’s friendship with one another. “Is that why you let him take you to bed? To catch him unawares?”

 

Dean’s skin crawled at the suggestion.

 

“No, Sam!” he said. “I stabbed him because he kidnapped me and I wanted to escape, and I fucked him because despite it all I actually quite like the bastard, goddamnit! Matters between us are only as complicated as  _ he _ wishes to make them.”

 

Silence descended in the wake of that confession, and Dean realized he had revealed more of himself than he meant to. He avoided the eyes of the men and women around him, instead carefully inspecting the wood floor beneath his feet and wishing the ocean would swallow him up. It was one thing to be madly in love with a man who  _ couldn’t _ return your feelings, and it was another thing to say it out loud. To let every fragile notion of things that could be crack under the weight of others’ observations.

 

Finally he looked up to meet the nervous looks of the people around him. Hannah looked at him with a kind of empathetic pity he was not surprised to see. He was certain they loved Cas almost as much as he did, though they weren’t so stupid as to actually say so aloud like he had. Charlie’s mouth was opened in a little amount of shock, while Aileen, Anna, and Rowena seemed unsurprised, but uncomfortable at witnessing the fallout of such a confession. Sam just looked stunned, as if nothing in the world made sense anymore.

 

Cas’ face was blank, but there was a redness to it that spoke of some strong emotion, whether that be anger or embarrassment or something else altogether, Dean did not know.

 

“I’d like…” Dean said, since the ocean had still not complied with his wishes to be stolen away and drowned so he might escape the situation. “I’d like to rest. Alone. Continue on without me, and I’m sure I can make a decision of whether I wish to stay on the ship in the morning.”

 

No one stopped him as he got unsteadily to his feet, and hobbled towards the door. There, he wrested open the door and stepped to the side to avoid Crowley falling in, from where he had been trying to listen at the door. Dean stood a moment, closing his eyes in shame at the thought that Crowley of all people also heard what he had said. Then continued on through the ship to the room he shared with Benny, Garth, and Max. It was a room he didn’t often use anymore, but the bed was familiar enough that it did not take long for him to sleep. So he escaped into dreams where there were no pointed silences to mock him.

 

***

 

_ They’d landed somewhere in the south of Spain though Dean had not been paying enough attention to tell you where exactly. West of Gibraltar, Dean knew that at least. It was a rocky beach, nowhere near anything habited. They likely wouldn’t have stopped here at all, but the last raid went well and Cas needed a place to store the bulk of their haul for the time being. There was a distinctive set of cliffs he’d decided would make a good spot. _

 

_ Benny had led out a group to scout, and from then it had been a smooth operation of moving Spanish gold stolen from a smaller merchant’s ship. They need to work as quickly as possible Cas had stressed, though he’d relented to spending the night on shore. _

 

_ Once everything was moved and a skeleton crew was set up on the ship to make a quick escape possible if necessary, a general mood of celebration broke over the camp. It was the most gld any of them had seen in their lifetime, and it would fetch a hefty price once Rowena and Cas found the right buyer. _

 

_ So the lot of them had spent the night drinking in celebration, much to Castiel’s disapproval. It took Charlie an hour of wheedling and whining to get Cas in on the fun, and even then he only had a drink or two before he called it a night and took a walk off by himself. Curious, Dean had followed after him, not having had much to drink himself. The rocks were slippery and sometimes slid under his feet as he hurried to catch the captain. _

 

_ “I’m not in the mood, Dean,” Cas said, when Dean finally managed to walk beside him. Dean snorted. _

 

_ “We are friends, aren’t we Cas?” Dean asked. “Aside from everything else.” _

 

_ “Aye,” Cas said. “If there is a word for it, friends is as good as any other.” _

 

_ “Good.” _

 

_ There was a lull between them as they sat down in an outcropping half a mile out from the others. The two contemplated the dark expanse of the ocean before them and Dean wondered if he had ever truly appreciated how still Castiel could be. He seemed more statue than man that night, and each breath seemed to flow through him in unison with the waves crashing on the shore. _

 

_ “I do…” Castiel said after at least an hour had passed and Dean was almost dozing, his head resting against the cliff face behind him. “I do enjoy your company.” _

 

_ “I would hope so,” Dean said, opening his eyes and turning to look at his friend. “We’ve known each other near a decade now. If you’d yet to warm up to me it wouldn’t say much for my personality.” _

 

_ Cas smiled at him, a smile that was private and sad. _

 

_ “It might be enough this time,” he said. It took Dean a moment to catch his meaning. “You’ll be going back to England. Back to Mary and Sam and John.” _

 

_ “I- Thank you,” said Dean, and he meant it. He wanted to see his family’s faces with a desperation that sometimes made him long to jump from the side of the ship and see how quickly swimming would take him to them. And yet- _

 

_ “Please don’t thank me,” said Castiel, his normally stoic face crumpling into something old and grief ridden. He wasn’t yet twenty four, but he looked world weary and sad in the way of crusty sailors who slowly but surely lost all reasons to come home from sea. The way old Bobby and Rufus, two mainstays of Tortuga, had looked for years. “Not for reversing something awful I’ve done to you. Not when I know if I still need you here, I won’t let you go.” _

 

_ “Let’s not- For one night, Cas, let’s not think of all that,” said Dean. “Let’s celebrate. It’s what everyone else is doing.” _

 

_ “I’m not walking back to drink. I don’t even like the taste of whiskey, no matter how well Rufus recommends it,” said Cas, wrinkling his nose in distaste. Dean couldn’t help but laugh. _

 

_ “There are other ways to celebrate,” he said. Cas’ face stiffened, and Dean kept his frustration at bay long enough to explain. “We could dance.” _

 

_ Cas’ face relaxed, and he smiled a moment at the thought. _

 

_ “Didn’t I teach you to dance?” he asked. “In exchange for the reading lessons. You were an obnoxious twelve year old, did you know that?” _

 

_ “You taught me how to dance poorly. I was a laughingstock. None of the girls would be my partner for years, Cas.” _

 

_ “I’m sure you’re exaggerating,” said Cas. “You were handsome enough by the time you were at the age to be dancing with girls.” _

 

_ “Not that you noticed.” _

 

_ “Not that I noticed,” Cas confirmed. “And I suppose you’re right, I had no business teaching you how to dance. The English can’t dance anyways. It was a hopeless notion.” _

 

_ “Oi, fuck off,” said Dean. Cas just continued to smirk at him and Dean rammed his shoulder into Cas’ side, nearly knocking him off the ledge and into the water. It didn’t manage to knock the smile off his face though. “Oh, come off it you ‘piece of shite’ scotsman.” _

 

_ “You can do better than that,” said Cas. “‘Rat bastard Judas son of a bitch’ was quite the turn of phrase. Pity it wasn’t me that taught you to swear. Rowena’s told me some good ones.” _

 

_ “No, you have John and Mary Winchester to thank for my foul mouthed ways,” said Dean. “Dad’d get a bit shouty after drink five or six. Mum never learned to stop shouting back. I used to pray every night that he wouldn’t hit her. And leave out a bowl of cream for the brownies, just in case God was busy.” _

 

_ “And did he?” _

 

_ “Did he what?” _

 

_ “Hit any of you?” _

 

_ “No. Just shout about for a while and then find his way to the little house, where he’d wake up half lucid in the morning. He’d make himself decent, and then sit down at breakfast as if nothing had happened the night before.” _

 

_ “I’m glad. I don’t need to hunt down and eviscerate any brownies,” said Castiel darkly. Dean blinked at him, and Cas seemed to come back to himself. “But you’re right. Enough of that. Let’s see if you’ve improved at dancing in the absence of my excellent teaching.” _

 

_ “Let’s,” Dean said, liking the twinkle in Cas’ eye. It reminded him of better times, when Cas was the mysterious and mischievous boy who slowly became Dean’s best friend in the whole world. Dean sang a sailor’s tune he knew, one about a poor girl done wrong by a man gone to sea, and he and Cas danced. It was the partner dance Cas had taught Dean so many years ago, and Dean was surprised to realize he remembered the steps and the footwork. Cas took up singing a more cheerful tune in Gaelic, and the two danced faster until Dean lost his footing and fell, barely saving himself from rolling down the cliff face into the churning water below. _

 

_ Cas laughed at him, reaching down a hand and dragging him to his feet. Dean felt as though the world had centered down to just the two of them, isolated together by rock and sea and endless night sky. Nothing that came before prepared him for how much he loved Castiel in that very instant. It didn’t matter that he’d already had Cas and been had by him, and shown him physically in all the ways he knew what he felt. This was intimacy in a way neither of them had truly known it with each other. _

 

_ They didn’t kiss or touch, or even so much as speak on anything resembling romance. They didn’t need to. The truth of it all was told in shy glances and heady stares and the lightning strike knowledge that if this same moment were to happen in another world, a world in which Cas did not owe his heart elsewhere, things would be very different between them. _

 

_ In truth, this was the night Castiel finally allowed himself to feel lost. _

 

***

 

“Can I come in?”

 

Dean’s skin was prickling and had started to peel in the middle of the night. He had been lying awake for hours trying to ignore it when Sam finally knocked on his door. Dean sat up, grunting loudly enough for Sam to hear. Sam came in looking about Dean’s room curiously, before his eyes settled on Dean himself.

 

“And sit down?” Sam asked him. Dean nodded. Sam sat on Max’s bed, directly across from Dean. The two brothers sat in silence a while at a complete loss of what to say. Finally, Sam let out a small snort. “I imagined so long what it might be like to find you.”

 

“Not much like this, I’d imagine,” said Dean. The jest landed between them, entirely humorless.

 

“No,” said Sam. “Not like this. I thought you’d be tied up and wasting away below decks. I thought as soon as you were cut free, you and I would fight our way out. We’d kill a ship full of pirates and go home, and everything would finally be the way it was supposed to be.”

 

“You would have died,” said Dean dispassionately. Sam’s face scrunched up in barely veiled annoyance. “Sam, I don’t doubt that you can be a hell of a fighter when you need to be, but I can guarantee you Cas is better.”

 

“Maybe,” said Sam, frowning thoughtfully. “Then again, maybe not. I’ve fought things faster and stronger than me before. I lived and they didn’t.”

 

It was as if the room dropped in temperature. This was truly not the conscientious, scholarly twelve year old Dean had left behind. Someone much more dangerous was sitting across from him. Dean had assumed because he’d been able to hold Sam back earlier that he wasn’t much of a fighter. Now Dean wondered if Sam had simply been unwilling to hurt him to break free.

 

“How is Mum?” Dean asked finally, wanting to change the subject. There was a coldness in Sam’s eyes that Dean was not unfamiliar with. It was the removal of oneself from one’s actions. Little Sammy had killer’s eyes, just as Dean did now. “And Dad?”

 

“They… I think the preferred euphemism,” Sam started hesitantly. “Is that they don’t share the same bed, anymore. Dad’s stuck to the country, while Mum and I operate a business of sorts out of London. Hunters for hire.”

 

“Was it because of me?” Dean asked quietly. Sam shook his head, his smile small and sad.

 

“No. I think what finally broke them apart was that Dad took a liking to the woman who took care of him after he suffered an attack of apoplexy. He married her and the two have a son together now. Adam.”

 

“He-”

 

“Mum and Dad had parliament dissolve their marriage before Kate’s pregnancy was common knowledge,” said Sam cautiously. “So Adam can inherit.”

 

“I see,” said Dean, quietly furious. “Nothing against the boy, but aren’t you angry? Dad left you and Mum! And with nothing to show for it.”

 

“We left him,” Sam countered. “Mum and Dad hadn’t been happy together in years. I find it hard to believe you didn’t know that.”

 

“But they love each other.”

 

“All the same,” said Sam, his shoulders lifting in a gesture that betrayed a festering hurt beneath his deep ambivalence. So he was angry at John, then. He was merely hiding it for Dean’s sake. Or hiding it from himself. There was no telling which was the truth. Dean didn’t know Sam well enough to truly read him anymore.

 

“I’m guessing you have questions as well,” Dean said. Sam nodded warily, looking away from Dean for a few moments before meeting his eyes again. He spoke plainly, with nothing to spare Dean’s feelings.

 

“There is a witch on board. Is there any possibility she’s enchanted you into… into your infatuation with the captain. To keep you docile.”

 

Dean’s hands clenched into fists. He bit back an angry retort and simply shook his head.

 

“You’re sure?”

 

“Yes, I’m bloody sure,” Dean said quietly. “Have you been with a woman yet Sam?”

 

“Have you?” Sam snapped back. This, at least, was proof Sam was only seventeen years old. As they got older, Dean found most men tended not to wrap so much of their ego around the state of their purity as younger men did.

 

“Yes,” said Dean, noting Sam’s look of deeply relieved surprise. He must have thought there was a chance Dean was normal, and that his infatuation with Cas truly was a passing fancy. He would not like what he was going to hear next, Dean suspected. “My last escape attempt. I met a woman named Lisa in Spain. She was very kind to me.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“Cas found me. And he offered to release me from the promise I made to him. To give me a little gold and let me on my way home with Lisa, if it pleased me.”

 

“You got back on his ship,” Sam said in mild horror. “And you  _ don’t _ think you were bewitched?”

 

“I know I wasn’t,” said Dean bitterly. “If it were a spell I would think escaping was wrong, or be grateful to him for being so kind to me as to offer me a way out. But Cas didn’t mean it, Sam. Oh, he would have let me go if I had said yes. He wouldn’t go back on his word. But trust me when I say my own goddamned lust was enough to keep me tied to him, and he knew it. So I gave the gold to Lisa, and I left. What I am asking you is if you know what it’s like to… to want something you know you shouldn’t and want anyway? Not because Cas is a man, don’t start on that again, but because…”

 

Dean trailed off, letting some of his pain shine through. Sam stared at him and his expression seemed to soften a fraction. Yes, Dean thought to himself. Sam had been with a woman, and loved her fiercely to the point of madness. If the way he looked at Eileen was any indication, this past relationship had not ended happily for Sam.

 

“Even if you really do love him,” said Sam at last. “That doesn’t mean you owe him anything Dean.”

 

“But I want Cas to be happy,” Dean said, miserably. “And I don’t want him to die. Something he can get very close to doing when he’s left to his own devices.”

 

“But why does it have to be you protecting him? He has an entire crew at his disposal, and most of them seem to like him well enough to protect him. You and I could leave now and find this man your captain’s so desperate to save. Mum would help if we explained.”

 

Dean’s mouth gaped a moment as he considered. Sam wasn’t wrong. It was a possible solution. The image shimmered before him, of finally getting to rest. Finally going home. It shattered as he realized the truth of the situation.

 

“He’d still go after the shipwreck,” he said. “Just in case we failed.”

 

Sam looked to be considering some way around this reasoning and coming up blank. Finally he let out a frustrated snort.

 

“So we’re staying then?” he asked. Dean looked away from him. “Whatever decision you make, I’m not leaving your side.”

 

“It’s going to be dangerous, Sammy.”

 

“I think you’ll find I have more experience in the handling of strange creatures than you do,” said Sam, that same distant look in his eyes again. “I dare say I might increase your chances of survival.”

 

“Come off it,” said Dean. “You got waylaid by a siren.”

 

“So did you,” said Sam, going a little red in embarrassment. “It’s hard to resist a siren if you’re not prepared to face one. And in my defense… she did seem lovely.”

 

“Ah,  _ he _ did as well for me,” said Dean. A dawning understanding crossed Sam’s face.

 

“You really do want men, then,” he said, swallowing in discomfort. “I’ve heard at sea… with lack of better options… I thought maybe you had confused friendship with other urges.”

 

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” said Dean. “But there’s no lack of women aboard this ship. And believe it or not, I am not an undesirable option among women where those other urges are concerned.”

 

Sam conceded the first point, though he looked a mite skeptical about the second. Judgmental little bastard, thought Dean, not without some fondness. Sam had often wondered what exactly Robin saw in Dean too, though he meant it mostly as a joke. Mostly being the operative word.

 

“I don’t understand it,” Sam said at last. And this was a place to begin from, if nothing else.

 

“You don’t need to,” said Dean. “You prefer women. So does Charlie. I’ve found that my conception of beauty isn’t limited by a person’s sex.”

 

“And you believe that’s a natural way to be?”

 

“I’ve spent more than a few nights in the arms of someone who’s half an angel,” said Dean. “I think God would have struck me down by now if He had a problem with it.”

 

Sam almost laughed at that.

 

“Perhaps he might have,” he admitted. Sam thought for a moment or two, seemingly considering what he had heard. “It will take some time, Dean. To grow used to all of... this.”

 

“I’ve only recently relearned that monsters truly exist,” said Dean, cheerfully. “I think I have a worse situation to grow used to.”

 

***

 

_ Dean woke to the sound of the ocean crashing against the cliffs, further down than it had been during the night. His back was still propped up against the cliff face, and although his back was sore he wouldn’t have thought about moving for the world. _

 

_ Cas’ head rested heavy against his chest, his breathing deep and steady as the tide. He seemed almost lit from within, a trick of the morning light. Dean wondered if there had ever been a person quite so beautiful before. _

 

_ If he still believed in fairies, he wouldn’t hesitate to name Cas one again. He couldn’t think of any other explanation for the impression Cas left that he was both awesome and fearsome in equal measure. _

 

_ Like something to be worshipped. Like a face of God. _

 

_ If God had really bad morning breath, Dean thought to himself. His suppressed chuckle was enough to disturb Cas’ sleep. He pressed his lips to the side of Dean’s neck, a long lingering thing that made Dean’s heart stutter uneasily. It would be so easy, sometimes, to believe Cas loved him. _

 

_ “What will be the first thing you’ll do when you see Balthazar again?” Dean asked, shattering their truce from the night before. It hit Cas like a bucket of cold water, and he tried to move away from Dean. Dean’s arms held fast around him, forcing him to reckon with the contradiction. Part of Dean wished he’d left well enough alone and let himself have these moments with Cas in which he could pretend. _

 

_ A much larger part of him was angry that Cas let him do this. Even though he wanted it, even though he had started it. Cas had to know how he felt, had to know how much it hurt to know he was a passing fancy of Cas’. The same way girls in foreign ports were for sailors before they went home to their wives. _

 

_ Not true, Dean thought to himself. He’d met many of those girls. They were smart enough not to get attached. They were smart enough to know what they had signed up for, and what they wanted, and not to ask for more than that. _

 

_ “I’m sorry,” Cas said coldly to him. “If I’ve given you some… impression-” _

 

_ “You don’t have to say it.” _

 

_ Cas paused. His voice was kinder when he spoke again. _

 

_ “The rules of our agreement,” he said. “Are that I let you go with no attempt to keep you here. Can I ask you to return that favor to me?” _

 

_ Dean let Cas go then, and they walked the half mile back to camp. Or they began walking and started to run when they saw something had gone terribly wrong. Camp was in disarray and there were dead bodies littering the ground. Most Dean did not recognize, but the survivors were not in good shape. _

 

_ “Cas, thank God,” called Hannah. Blood ran down their temple, deep red against their dark skin. “We weren’t sure-” _

 

_ “What happened?” Cas demanded of them, though he touched their shoulder to ascertain their wellbeing first. Hannah nodded to him, ever the professional. _

 

_ “A small ship docked in. Just a few pirates, but the raided what we hadn’t buried yet and ran off with it. We tried to chase them down, but…” _

 

_ “No, it was better to stay and take care of-” Cas said, breaking off with an effort. “Who have we lost?” _

 

_ “Three people, Jebediah, Asa.” They paused a moment before gently adding. “And Rowena.” _

 

_ Cas closed his eyes, taking in the deaths. Then he shook his head. _

 

_ “Rowena is not dead.” _

 

_ “She suffered a mortal wound.” _

 

_ “It will be less than it appeared,” said Cas cryptically, which Dean had thought to be denial at the time, though it had turned out to be true. Rowena was hurt, and badly, but they found her very much alive. It surprised Dean that Hannah would be mistaken in such an appraisal. They did not like to say things unless they were certain what they said was true. Especially things of such consequence. _

 

_ Dean was glad to see they were wrong, though could not help his own detached sense of horror as he looked down upon Asa’s eyes gone glassy in death. They had called him Asa the Fox aboard the ship, because he was wily and red-haired and shy. Alicia and Max were weeping over him, and that was the day he learned that the kindly older man was the twins’ father. They did not advertise the fact only because Asa had asked them not to, so that his enemies would not use them against him. _

 

_ No one would use anything against him ever again, Dean supposed. There was no use in hiding their grief, and so they siblings were let alone. _

 

_ Cas organized the others around helping those who had been injured to the ship. Once they were on board, he took able bodied men to dig up the gold they had buried the night before. It would only be half of what they had stolen, but it was not nothing. Dean numbly found himself volunteering to help with the retrieval. _

 

_ Retrieving the gold was necessary now, or the Spaniards that had raided them would be back to search the area and would find the stache. Dean helped dig, losing himself in the repetitive motion, trying not to think of Asa’s glassy eyes and Max and Alicia’s tears, and his own father who he had not seen in four years time. _

 

_ Dean dropped his shovel. He realized, slowly, that he did not have to be here. He could break his promise if he wanted to. Yes, Cas no longer had the sum he needed to free Balthazar, but what did Dean truly care about that? Cas would not have to uphold his part of the bargain, then. And he’d had no right to steal Dean away in the first place. Dean would find some way to repay his parents on his own, and that was fine. _

 

_ There was no love here, only death. Dean had been a fool to think anything else. And it was tempting fate to stay, he saw that now. _

 

_ So without a word to anyone, he ran full tilt into the forest ahead. He ignored the shouts behind him, and kept running and running until his lungs ached and he no longer smelled the sea. Then he hid himself, knowing even without doing so there was little enough chance of Cas staying to look for him and placing his crew in danger of more raiding. _

 

_ Still he hid. If only because he liked to imagine Cas would come looking for him anyway. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning Clarification for Chapter 2
> 
> -As in the previous chapter, I am having Sam Not Get It when it comes to Dean's sexuality. Again, this isn't a comment on the character in canon, it is a direction I'm taking the story and it does have a purpose (and Sam does get over it).
> 
> -Minor Character Death: Asa Fox
> 
>  
> 
> Other fun stuff: Yes I riffing off of the idea that the Campbells can trace their lineage back to the Mayflower thank you for asking :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: some violence/body horror, (very) minor character death, supernaturally induced suicidal behavior mentioned (caused by a banshee)
> 
> Warnings are further explained in the endnotes

The sea seemed calm as they sailed from Clew Bay, and the island where the siren had been weaving its song was now silent. Castiel spared a scowl for the rock, before returning to his conversation with Rowena and Charlie. The three were tallying the inventory and calculating how long they could stay at sea before supplies got dangerously low. Dean didn’t listen in as he might usually do, instead trying to follow the conversation his brother was having with Aileen.

 

The two used their hands to speak, signing in a mixture of Maritime and British sign language, along with signs of Aileen’s own invention, according to Sam at least. Dean didn’t know much about either, even the letter signs were above him. He did however have a good sense for body language and expression, and it seemed to him like his brother and Crowley’s minion were in the midst of an argument.

 

“Young love,” said an unwelcome voice. Dean did not have to look to know it was Crowley, and so he didn’t. “Do you want to know what they’re saying?”

 

“The fun is in the guessing,” said Dean. In a high pitched mockery of a feminine voice, Dean spoke as Aileen moved her hands. “In truth, I can never be with you. Your manhood is simply too small.”

 

Crowley laughed.

 

“A trait I’m sure runs in the family,” he said. Dean raised an eyebrow at him.

 

“Are you trying to bait me into proving you wrong?” asked Dean. “You have a fiance, you know.”

 

“I do. A woman who is twice as lovely as you’ll ever be,” Crowley confirmed. “I’m merely making conversation with an old acquaintance.”

 

“Is that what we’re calling mortal enemies now?” asked Dean with a barbed smile. “It’s a rare man who will actually change for a woman. It’s much more common that he will pretend to for a while, and show his true colors once she can’t leave him.”

 

“Yes, well. Some men actually do try to change,” said Crowley. “But true enough that I’m not really after mindless small talk. I want something.”

 

“Well, that I believe.”

 

“Your captain won’t let me speak to my mother alone,” said Crowley.

 

“I don’t blame him.”

 

“I need to.”

 

“So you can try to kill her again?”

 

“I want a sense of closure. A chance for her to apologize and me to forgive her.”

 

“She won’t say anything of the sort until you’re gone and buried, and maybe not even then,” said Dean back easily. “She was a young woman, scared and not ready to be a mother, when she left you. It was a heinous thing to do, but she’s changed since then. She might not apologize for it, but she is sorry.”

 

“It’s no good unless I hear it from her.”

 

“It’ll be no good if you do hear it from her,” said Dean. “It might soothe your pride, but it won’t heal any wounds. It’s not how that sort of thing works.”

 

Crowley looked at Rowena with a strange combination of hatred and longing. It felt like a sucker punch to Dean’s gut that he truly did understand Crowley’s obsession with his mother. It wasn’t born of revenge, not really. It was born of the fact that she had made Crowley feel utterly unlovable, a thing to be discarded when it became inconvenient.

 

Yes, although Dean knew his mother and his brother loved him unconditionally (even if it had turned out his father did not), he could understand what being unloved could do to someone. The harm it could bring you to do to yourself, and the desperation to win approval from the person who did not love you.

 

“Perhaps she should apologize to you,” Dean continued, catching Crowley’s attention. “But that won’t make her see you as truly her son, and that’s what you actually want, isn’t it?”

 

“Don’t project your issues onto me,” Crowley said, his voice gone dangerously soft. “Castiel sees you as you are, a pretty lovesick thing he stole for a bit of money. Just because it took you an eternity to cotton on doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t see our own selves clearly.”

 

Dear God, Dean wanted to slap him. Instead he aimed a brittle smile in Crowley’s direction.

 

“Good. Then you see that nothing Rowena has done ever justified the vile thing you let yourself become,” said Dean. “There are good men dead because of you, and saving one life doesn’t erase that, y’goddamn bastard. Even if Cas lets you live because of whose life you saved.”

 

“If we’re going to get into the specifics of morality, at least I’m not only on this ship because I want to fuck a married man,” said Crowley, before leaving Dean to his own devices. The moment Crowley left, however, Cas swooped in with the focus of a hawk looking for prey.

 

“What did he say to you?” he asked Dean, glaring at Crowley’s receding figure. “I can bar him from the main deck-”

 

“Nothing so serious,” said Dean. “He wants to speak to Rowena alone. I told him to fuck himself on the sharp end of a cutlass.”

 

“As long as he cleans it after,” muttered Cas, with a there and gone smile that Dean couldn’t help but return. “You can still leave with Sam. You do know that, Dean?”

 

He spoke tentatively, as though he truly did imagine that Dean would jump at the opportunity. It was another thing to add to the list of ways in which Castiel made no sense to Dean. He was enigmatic, to say the least, but sometimes he seemed relatively simple to figure out. Then he would behave in all manner of contradictory ways, as if to confuse Dean specifically.

 

“I said I’d stay,” said Dean, swallowing thickly at the way Cas brightened with his confirmation. “No prey, no pay. And I’d like to pay my mother back at least.”

 

Cas’ expression seemed to falter.

 

“Aye, you’ll get a share of the loot,” he said after a moment. “As will Sam, if it pleases you.”

 

“And we won’t bury it this time,” said Dean.

 

“No. And we won’t let Crowley tell another living soul about it or our whereabouts either,” said Cas. “He’s almost got himself a wife now. He’ll know we can get to her, even if he knows enough witchcraft that we can’t get to him.”

 

“Jody’s not done a thing to us,” said Dean, not liking the way Cas’ head was going.

 

“All the same,” said Castiel. “Crowley will know to think twice before going after me and mine again.”

 

***

 

_ Dean found Lisa washing clothes in a spring after walking the same direction for two days. He was hungry and bone tired, his clothes clinging to his body and crusted stiff with dried saltwater and sweat. She’d looked at him with curiosity, bordering on wariness. Dean had used what Spanish he knew to get across what had happened to him. Lisa spoke a little differently than the Spanish sailors Dean knew, but he managed to get himself across enough that Lisa helped clean him and brought him back to her home. _

 

_ Lisa was a widower with a young son named Benicio. She owned  _ una taberna _ , a place where the locals gathered to drink, and she got Dean work as a field hand so he could start earning money to make his way home. _

 

_ Dean knew some of the people in town talked about him and Lisa living together. It was hard to miss people were gossiping about you, even if you didn’t understand every word they were saying. And it wasn’t untrue that some nights Lisa invited him into her bedroom, and the two made love as best they knew how. Except Lisa missed her late husband, and Dean missed Cas with a fierceness he hated himself for, and the whole sorry affair was held together by loneliness, mild affection, and proximity. _

 

_ He told Lisa, sometimes, about Castiel. He told her about his sea blue eyes, the feral wildness of him, his grace with a cutlass in hand. She understood enough of it to know when Castiel showed up at her front door, two months after Dean had arrived. She knew enough to tell Cas off at length in profanity laden Spanish just how welcome the pirate was in her home. _

 

_ Cas had taken the tongue-lashing with affable bashfulness. Lisa had squinted at him in suspicion, and told him to wait outside. Then she had snuck out her back door and gone to where Dean was working to tell him what had happened. Dean had gone pale and run back to Lisa’s house, ignoring her as she called after him. Once there he had found Castiel sitting on her front stoop, his eyes closed and his face turned towards the sun. _

 

_ He looked peaceful, at rest like that. _

 

_ “Why are you here?” Dean asked. Cas’ eyes opened. _

 

_ “She’s pretty,” said Cas, easing himself up to standing. His eyes flickered towards Lisa’s house as he went on. “A lot of spirit and a mind to match.” _

 

_ “So glad you approve.” _

 

_ Cas’ hands tightened into fists, but he did not say anything further on the subject of Lisa. _

 

_ “You made a promise to me, Dean. Our lives tied together, you said that. I didn’t ask it of you.” _

 

_ Dean looked away from him. _

 

_ “When you dropped Asa’s body into the sea,” said Dean. “You would have closed his eyes first, right? And then weighed down the canvas with a cannonball and let him sink like a rock. If you ever did the same to me, leave my eyes open. I want to see what’s coming to eat me.” _

 

_ Cas took this in. He looked at Dean very differently now, as though he was starting to guess just how badly Dean had been affected by facing the idea of mortality from the wrong end of a sword. It was different than Dean’s original realization that a man could kill him. Now he had to contend with the reality of it, what being dead and gone actually looked like on the face of a man he had known and liked. _

 

_ “I found out who fucked us,” Cas said at last. “Would you like to guess?” _

 

_ “No, Cas, I really wouldn’t,” said Dean. _

 

_ “Crowley divined our position and hired a skiff with a few Spaniards to murder his mother,” said Cas. “He didn’t even know we had the gold on us. The men he hired caught sight of the loot we’d won and, well, they decided to take it off our hands. It was all just...” _

 

_ “Bad luck,” said Dean. “Piracy seems to court it. I got tired of tempting fate. So I thought to myself fuck the promises I made to you. And fuck you as well.” _

 

_ “Ah,” said Castiel, jaw stiff and expression gone unfriendly. “If that’s how you see it.” _

 

_ “It is.” _

 

_ “Then let me help you on your way.” _

 

_ Cas shoved what looked to be a small bag of coins in Dean’s direction. Dean opened it, shocked to see gold shining merrily in the afternoon sun. Dean closed it again quickly, not wanting any of Lisa’s neighbors to get any ideas about nicking it from him. _

 

_ “For you. And your lady friend as well,” said Castiel briskly. “It’ll be enough to get you both to England. But seeing as you’re breaking your promise to me, don’t expect more.” _

 

_ Dean stared at the money, and then looked back up at Cas. He didn’t know what he was feeling. The only thing he truly understood was that he wanted to shove each gold coin down Castiel’s throat and make him swallow it for being such a bastard. For tracking him down like this, instead of leaving well enough alone. _

 

_ Instead, Dean pushed him against Lisa’s front door and kissed him. Every muscle in Cas’ body relaxed, and Dean knew then that this was just what Cas was hoping for. He had been banking on Dean being enough of a sorry sucker to let his feelings cloud his judgment. A safe bet, Dean supposed, since within minutes of seeing Cas again Dean found himself with the man’s tongue in his mouth. And, as ever, it wasn’t as though Cas had made the first move. _

 

_ Dean didn’t have time to dwell on this before a sharp rap on the back of the head had him leaping backwards from Cas. He breathed a sigh of relief when he realized it was only Lisa. She beckoned the both of them inside, sparing an odd look at Dean. _

 

_ “Me dijiste que no te amaba.” _

 

You told me he didn’t love you.

 

_ Dean didn’t have an answer to that. The sky was blue, water was wet, and Cas didn’t love him. He cared enough that he preferred Dean alive to dead, as well as in his company, but that was the whole of it. _

 

_ Dean helped Lisa make a meal before she left to run the  _ taberna _ as she did each night. Lisa told Benicio that Cas was an old friend of Dean’s that would be having dinner with them for the night. Then she left, a soft glance spared for Dean before she was on her way. _

 

_ Benicio was terribly curious about Cas, who treated him with the gentle wariness he treated all children. He let Benicio go on and on about the different bugs he’d found that day playing in the dirt with his friends, encouraging Benicio every time he lost the thread of the story. It was both a sadness and a relief when Dean finally banished Benicio to his bed. As much as Dean had come to love Benicio, no child had anything to say that was interesting for hours on end. Come to think of it, most adults didn’t either. _

 

_ Then again, now Dean would have to face Cas. And talk to him. Two things he very much didn’t want to do. _

 

***

 

Cas made them put cotton in their ears at night, and kept Garth on the night shift to watch the lot of them. There weren’t many incidents of men trying to jump over the side, though several crew members ended up grumpily thanking Garth for saving them from the forty foot drop into freezing cold waters and their imminent deaths at the hands of the sea creatures.

 

Dean didn’t tell anyone, but he pulled the cotton out of his ears each night in the crow’s nest, which he had taken watch duty for. He wasn’t sure how he knew siren’s song couldn’t affect him anymore, but he did. It was the same that he no longer saw the beautiful conjured images the sirens elicited in the minds of men, and instead saw them as the fleshy grey creatures they truly were. He didn’t know what it meant that he could see them now, but he had a feeling it had something to do with the writing that had been inscribed in his skin.

 

Dean hadn’t been alone with Cas for days, partly because the captain was busy preparing for the worst they might face in their search for the lost ship they were chasing. In addition, Dean was avoiding him. Of course, wandering the ship and thinking about how he didn’t want to see Cas turned out to be a horrendously effective way to summon him.

 

“Hello Dean,” Cas said, appearing as if out of nowhere. He took hold of Dean’s wrist and lifted Dean’s sleeve slightly, frowning at his skin. “The marks are still there.”

 

“Not that you need them anymore,” said Dean. Cas let go of his wrist, and Dean pulled his arm back to himself. “With your damned map already assembled and ready to lead you to ruin.”

 

“It… I think it might not be quite so simple as that,” mused Cas. He looked like he might say more, but then he hesitated. He sized up Dean. “If you’d like to be left alone, could ya ask me? Instead of leaving me to guess?”

 

“Why?”

 

Cas sighed and leant against the wall across from Dean, putting space between the both of them.

 

“Sometimes people separate themselves ‘cause they don’t want anyone to notice ‘em,” he said. “And sometimes they do it because they want to know if people do notice them. If it’s the former, I’d prefer to leave you in peace. But if it’s the latter…”

 

He trailed off, leaving room for Dean to fill the space.

 

“I think it’s better,” Dean said at last. “If I don’t… You’ll be back with Balthazar soon. I have a bad habit of thinking too much on what it means when you keep my company.”

 

“Maybe that’s not so simple either.”

 

“It is,” said Dean. “It needs to be that simple.”

 

Cas’ shoulders caved in, but he gave a slight nod. He looked at Dean thoughtfully a moment.

 

“Can we…” he said. “Can I steal a kiss?”

 

It was almost romantic, the way he said it. However, Dean could read between the lines with ease.  _ Can I say goodbye? _

 

“I can do better than that for you,” Dean muttered, remembering the many times he had done better than that for Cas, and all because he loved the bastard and he would take what he could get of him. “For one last time.”

 

“No,” said Cas, shaking his head firmly. “No. Just…”

 

He hesitated a moment, and then he walked to Dean with a steady determination in his eyes. Dean expected some show of affection with a degree of strength behind it. Cas enjoyed the push and pull of power between them sometimes, the fact that Dean was equal and willing to it, at least as far as sex was concerned. But this wasn’t their usual fare. It wasn’t passionate, but removed from true intimacy. Neither was it the stumbling, timid peck that Cas’ first attempt to kiss Dean had been.

 

Instead he stopped, close to Dean but not touching. Close enough to breathe in. Close enough for Dean to wonder if he should take a step back. Then, Cas closed the distance between them by degrees, barely touching Dean’s cheek with his lips before resting his head against Dean’s shoulder.

 

“I’m sorry I’m not the man you deserve,” said Cas quietly. “I hope someday you’ll forgive me for that.”

 

Dean felt himself tugging Cas to him before he’d realized his arms had moved from his sides. They stood in a loose embrace, tucked away in a lesser traveled part of the ship. Dean entertained for a moment, the idea that they could stay here for a while. Linger in a goodbye that meant more to Dean than he was willing to admit out loud.

 

“You’re sure you don’t want more than a kiss?” Dean asked, not knowing if he was serious or not. Cas laughed, and Dean held him tighter

 

The glass fragile peace between them was shattered when someone close by cleared their throat. Cas’ posture straightened, his head lifting from where it had been resting against Dean, and his expression cleared utterly. Dean for his part, did his best not to kill Hannah with his eyes alone. They gave him an appraising look, and then got down to business.

 

“The ship’s stopped moving,” they said, without preamble. “We’ve tried rowing, but the current picks up equal and opposite to our efforts. There’s no wind, and no land in sight of us.”

 

“That’s impossible,” Cas said, frowning deeply. “Have you tried…”

 

“Frankly I’ve tried turning around,” said Hannah, ignoring the anger that flared behind Cas’ eyes at the declaration. “If you’d like to throw me off the deck for mutiny, have at it. But the ship isn’t moving.”

 

Cas ran to the main deck, Dean quick on his heels and Hannah right behind them. Once they got there, they saw the truth of the matter.

 

The  _ Grace of God _ sat utterly motionless, in the center of an endless expanse of still water.

 

***

 

_ Once Dean had washed Lisa’s plates and silverware, he joined Cas in the sitting room. Cas said nothing for a long time, seemingly leaving it to Dean to break the silence. At last he realized nothing on Earth or in Heaven would possess Dean to begin this conversation. _

 

_ “I meant it,” said Cas. “About the gold. I still do.” _

 

_ “I’m sure you do,” said Dean. “And I’m also sure you know I won’t take you up on it.” _

 

_ Silence stretched between them again. _

 

_ “Do I have to beg for you to come back with me?” Cas asked, finally. The question came through gritted teeth, but he sounded more defeated than angry. “Is there… is there something else you want?” _

 

_ “Make me a full member of the crew, able to earn my share of a haul,” said Dean. It would be a slight upgrade in his position, though he knew he would come back without it. He was already decided to come back, but he wouldn’t trade away the opportunity to win a portion of freedom for himself. “I can come and go unsupervised, and no longer under the restrictions of a prisoner.” _

 

_ “Aye, we can do that,” said Cas, without hesitation. “You’ll be a hostage in name only, you have my word.” _

 

_ “Is that all I have?” Dean asked bitterly. Cas only looked at him. “Tell me this then, what do you want from me?” _

 

_ “I don’t know what you mean.” _

 

_ “You spent a not inconsiderable amount of time tracking me down,” Dean said at last. “I understand I’m easy money coming in for you and yours, but worth a few months of effort to retrieve instead of taking a different hostage? The math isn’t close to adding up. So tell me, Cas. What exactly do you want from me?” _

 

_ They were far enough inland that Dean knew logically he couldn’t be smelling salt in the air or feeling the crackle of energy before a storm. And yet it felt that way in the seconds he waited for Cas to answer him. _

 

_ “You were the first true friend I made,” said Cas.”Before I met you, I hadn’t had an easy life. It wasn’t easy even after, but… You were the first person who didn’t treat me like a burden or a stranger.” _

 

_ “Then why don’t you love me more than him?” _

 

_ And there was the crux of it. At his core, Dean was quite simple really. He wanted his family. He wanted a place to call home. He wanted adventure, too, mind you, but he wanted a place he could go when the adventure was over and it was time to rest for a while. And lesser than those other aches, but still a definite ache all its own was his desire for Cas to realize- _

 

_ “Because I don’t,” said Cas, simple as that. “You were my first friend, but Balthazar was… He was the one who taught me who I am. He gave me the sea. A place to call home and my freedom all at once. I owe him.” _

 

_ Dean felt a hope he’d let himself build, despite his reservations, die a small death inside him. The sky was blue, water was wet, and Cas didn’t love him. Not the kind of love Dean wished he felt at least. _

 

_ “We can leave tomorrow,” said Dean. “I need time to say goodbye.” _

 

_ Cas nodded tersely, and stood as though to leave. He paused a moment, looking back at Dean. _

 

_ “You should stay somewhere else,” said Dean. “Lisa has enough trouble with the rumors about me. I’d rather it not become the talk of the town that two men are spending the night in a widow’s home. People assume.” _

 

_ “Of course,” said Cas immediately. “Besides, I don’t want to bother the poor lass. I’m already taking you away from her.” _

 

_ “She won’t mind that,” said Dean. “Truly, she is a blessing I did not deserve, but neither of us made assumptions about how long we’d be in each other’s lives.” _

 

_ There was a moment of naked relief on Cas’ face. Then, he half-raised his hand in an aborted goodbye and swept out the door, his tattered long coat flaring out behind him in the wind. Dean was rather bemused by the abrupt exit, but soon fell back into a very private despair. Cas had been nothing but honest with him. Balthazar would always come first, and Dean needed to stop hoping for anything else. He needed to harden his heart, and quickly. _

 

_ Dean told Lisa everything that had happened when she came home late that night, as she always did. She listened carefully. Dean’s Spanish had improved leaps and bounds since his long stay with her, and he didn’t doubt that he conveyed himself as he meant to. Still Lisa frowned at him thoughtfully, as though there was something about the situation she didn’t understand. _

 

_ “Why don’t you just leave him?” she asked. “You could go home to your family. Or you could stay here. I know that we’re not perfect, but I could learn to love you. Given some time. You wouldn’t be a hard man to love.” _

 

_ Dean hadn’t known it, but they were words he needed to hear. _

 

_ “I will leave him,” he said. “But I have a promise to keep first. And after that…” _

 

_ “I know already. Love isn’t something men think can be learned,” said Lisa with a sly smile. “They want to be struck by lightning.” _

 

_ “I doubt you’ll have any trouble finding another man to learn to love,” said Dean, teasing her in return. If nothing else, they made great friends, he supposed. He leaned his forehead against hers, and touched her cheek with his palm. “Thank you for everything.” _

 

_ “For being a refuge from the storm,” corrected Lisa. Dean nodded, and then reached for the gold Cas had left with him. Lisa crossed her arms, frowning. “You don’t owe me, Dean Winchester.” _

 

_ “I do,” said Dean. “But if you can swallow it better, think of it as a present for Benicio.” _

 

_ As Dean suspected, she couldn’t say no to that. _

 

_ The next morning, Dean had to carefully pry Benicio off him as the boy tried to convince him not to go. It was a much more painful goodbye than Lisa’s, and Dean found himself telling the boy if he really wanted to find him, there were ports where the  _ Grace of God _ landed that he could send messages to. There were brothels in Tortuga and Port Royal where Dean had friends who would relay his correspondence, and to send a note if he or Lisa were ever in trouble. Benicio had tearfully accepted this, and Dean had left soon after. _

 

_ Cas was waiting for him on the road out of town with three horses. Charlie was already in the saddle of one of them. She looked at Dean in the eye and mouthed over Cas’ shoulder something he didn’t quite catch, but seemed to be Charlie offering him the chance to get away again. He shook his head. He appreciated it, but it wasn’t needed. _

 

_ “Which way?” was all Dean said. He didn’t utter another word for the three day’s journey back to the ship, and after a while, Charlie and Cas stopped trying to engage him in conversation. _

 

_ Leaving had been good, even if it had come to nothing, Dean reflected to himself. It gave him perspective he had been sorely lacking. _

 

***

 

They spent hours waiting for the wind to pick up before accepting that they had found themselves caught in a trap of unnatural origin. Cas made everyone on board line up and drink salt water before handing out weapons to each and every person. One man cursed and cried as the water boiled down his throat, and Rowena had to spend hours with him before declaring him expunged of unworldly influence.

 

Dean drank easily, much to his own relief. Night was closing in by the time they got to him, and he didn’t wish to be locked away during the night. Whatever threat was coming for them, he wanted to fight. Cas hadn’t put him on first watch, but Dean made his way to the crow’s nest in any case. He planned on keeping an eye out, and being the first to face any threat.

 

He was startled when he saw someone climbing up to join him. Alfie had been nothing but grateful when Dean had sent him to his bed, saying that he would take first watch in his stead. But it wasn’t Alfie climbing up netting. It was Sam.

 

Sam heaved himself over the side and into the crow’s nest. Dean moved to make room for him, albeit reluctantly. They watched over the dark expanse of ocean. The surface was as smooth as glass, and yet Dean did not feel unnerved. Only curious.

 

“You’ve been avoiding me,” said Sam without preamble.

 

“I’ve been avoiding everyone,” Dean countered, which was true. Though perhaps Sam had more of a reason to take it personally than everyone else, considering how long it had been since he’d last seen his brother before Sam had found him at Clew Bay. “I’m sorry.”

 

Sam accepted the apology, eyes roving over the water the same way Dean’s did. He looked nervous, but excited. There was an edge of anticipation to him, an aura of expectation. He reminded Dean of a cat ready to pounce.

 

“Seen anything?” Sam asked. Dean shook his head.

 

“No,” he said. “No sirens. No selkies. No ghosts or ghoulies or witches. Besides Rowena and Anna of course.”

 

“And Aileen,” Sam said absently. Dean frowned at him. “Well, she knows a bit of magic. Mostly what she’s learned from Crowley. Useful stuff, some of it.”

 

“Is that how you tracked us down?”

 

“No, we did that the old fashioned way. Good old gossip,” said Sam cheerfully. “There was enough surrounding Castiel. He isn’t well liked by other pirates, that much is clear.”

 

“He treats women as equals, that tends to bother some of them,” said Dean, making Sam snort. “And he’s stolen more than a few ships other crews had been planning to take. Intuition, he always called it.”

 

“Rowena,” Sam corrected.

 

“I know that now.”

 

The two brothers went back to scanning the ocean. Dean thought it had a glow about it now, though he wasn’t certain of it. He kept quiet, not wanting to upset his brother. Sam was still scanning the water, but there was a far off look in his eyes now. Dean suspected there was something on his mind.

 

“So,” Dean said awkwardly, uncertain how to approach the matter. Sam as a child had been unable to stop himself from telling Dean about what upset him. Injustice, things he had read in his books, something their dad has said, the state of the weather… It occurred to Dean suddenly there was a topic they’d never really covered, one Sam might have had troubles with in the five years since he’d been a self-serious, chubby cheeked twelve year old. “I’ve… noticed. That you and Aileen. Are. Well, what I mean to say is-”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Sam, drawing up his knees and tucking his chin onto them. Dean considered whether or not this was true, and realized he could not tell.

 

“It’s fine if you don’t,” Dean said. “But if you do, I’m willing to listen.”

 

Sam kept scanning the water. Dean decided to let the matter lie. It wasn’t as though he were dying to talk about his own matters of the heart, and he owed Sam the same consideration.

 

“She doesn’t understand why I’m interested,” Sam said, all in one breath. Surprised, Dean snorted in amusement. Sam elbowed him in the side, and Dean grinned at him.

 

“I don’t understand why she’s interested.”

 

“By God’s nails, you really are the same Dean Winchester,” said Sam. “Always taking the piss instead of having an honest to God conversation.”

 

“By God’s _ nails _ ? I’ll have to remember that one. It’ll give Charlie a laugh,” Dean snickered, glad when Sam’s irritation faded to a begrudging amusement. “Well, let’s have it. What have you done to offend her?”

 

“I haven’t done anything. All I did was ask if I could court her,” said Sam.

 

“Well, I tend to think one shouldn’t bother pursuing women who say no to those sorts of questions,” said Dean. “It’s evil to chase the ones who mean it, and foolish to chase the ones who don’t.”

 

“She didn’t say no,” said Sam miserably. “She argued with me about it. She asked me what the goal of courting would be.”

 

“Please tell me you didn’t say marriage.”

 

“What else was I supposed to say?” asked Sam. “I like her. She likes me. She doesn’t like working for Crowley. It seems a simple enough arrangement.”

 

“And I really hope you didn’t say it like that,” said Dean, making Sam’s scowl deepen. “Some women dream of getting married. And some women dread the idea. Do you want to know how you can tell which one Aileen is?”

 

“How?”

 

“Because she learned how to take care of herself,” said Dean. Sam opened his mouth as if to argue, but Dean pressed on. “More than you or I ever did. She learned not to rely on anyone else. Not to suppose they would be around long. She works for Crowley. He knows enough not to hire someone he doesn’t view as expendable and she is too smart not to realize it.”

 

“What does any of that have to do with being married?” asked Sam.

 

“Because people depend on the ones they love, whether they mean to or not,” said Dean. “Besides, marriage is frequently a transaction for women, according to Charlie, at least. She describes the whole institution as an exercise in trading away one’s freedom for acceptance and security. Does Aileen seem the type to do that?”

 

“That’s not what it would be,” said Sam, sourly. “She can’t possibly think that- I would never ask her to limit herself to be with me. I saw what that did to Mum.”

 

“Does she know that?” asked Dean. Sam furrowed his brow in thought. “In any case, you’re only seventeen. And Aileen is hardly older than you are. You should wait a little while before getting married.”

 

“Says the man who tried to get himself engaged at sixteen.”

 

“Says the man who is very glad he did not get himself engaged at sixteen,” said Dean. “How often do you think I still think about Robin, Sam? I loved her, don’t get me wrong, but those feelings passed.”

 

“Because you haven’t seen her in years,” Sam protested. “If Castiel had disappeared and you had married Robin, you would have forgotten him and still loved her.”

 

“Maybe. But seeing as that’s not what happened, I’m glad I didn’t marry someone I’m not sure I would have loved my whole life. It wouldn’t have been fair to her.”

 

“You might have been happier though,” said Sam. “He doesn’t… I’ve come under the impression that he doesn’t treat you well.”

 

“Crowley whispering in your ears again?”

 

“Charlie actually,” Sam said. “You seemed closest to her, so I asked some questions. She told me she’d hoped her captain would fall in love with you and forget his mad quest to save Balthazar. Instead, she was afraid you were quite taken with him, and he did not know what to do with the attention. So he allowed it.”

 

“He more than allowed it,” Dean muttered. He’d spare Sam the details, but suffice to say Dean was certain that Cas very much wanted him in some ways, even if he didn’t in others. “And he didn’t lie to me about his priorities. It’s my fault for ignoring his warnings.”

 

“He could have told you no.”

 

“He could have. We all have weaknesses,” said Dean. “Yours is that you apparently have no idea how to speak to women. A tragedy, considering your looks aren’t doing you any favors.”

 

Sam knocked his shoulder into Dean’s, and Dean smirked at the annoyance on his face. Sam looked heavenward. Despite his outward irritation with Dean, he was more relaxed than when he had arrived at the crow’s nest.

 

“I never thought I’d get to talk to you about things like this,” Sam admitted quietly. “About anything, actually.”

 

Dean didn’t say anything, but he didn’t feel he needed to. They sat in silent camaraderie, once again scanning the oceans for danger. For the moment they felt like brothers again, and it was a weight off Dean’s shoulders he hadn’t realized was there.

 

Dean’s relief faded as he spotted the glow he’d seen before. It was duller now, but larger. A large, dark shape coiled beneath the water, that emitted an eerie aura of light.

 

“Do you see that?” Dean asked, squinting at the shape. It looked to be half a mile away, though perspective was difficult to judge with the ocean so flat, dark, and endless. It was big, Dean could tell that much. Sam looked in the same direction, also squinting.

 

“Oh,” he said, finally spotting it. He drew an iron knife from its sheath, immediately alert. “There’s a woman in the water.”

 

“A woman?” Dean asked, frowning.

 

“Likely another siren come to take advantage of our position,” said Sam, getting ready to climb down the netting and warn the others. Dean frowned and shook his head.

 

“It’s not a siren,” he said. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew it wasn’t the grey skinned beasts he’d grown used to spotting in the water. Despite the mystery surrounding the creature, Dean couldn’t help but feel a sense of warmth as he thought of it. Warmth and love and home, more than anything had felt in a long time.

 

He wanted to swim out to it. He wondered if he should be wary of that feeling, but it wasn’t the same as the cloying artificial want that the siren had inspired. There was no warning sign from the runes that now covered Dean’s body, no ringing in his head. In fact, if anything there was an itch under his skin to follow his instincts. To trust this strange giantess that lurked near their ship.

 

Dean followed Sam down the netting. As Sam warned the others of the oncoming creature, Dean dropped his sword belt, and removed his jacket, shirt and trousers. Charlie was the first to look away from Sam and notice this strange behavior.

 

“Dean, what the hell are you doing?” she demanded.

 

Before anyone could stop him, Dean leapt from the side of the ship and dove into the water below.

 

He resurfaced moments later, and could hear the shouting above him. He could see Anna staring down, ready to dive after him. He shook his head at her quickly, treading water. Her eyes widened and she nodded at him. It was only then that Dean realized the runes on his body were glowing once again, a warm silver blue.

 

Dean swam to the creature and the creature swam to meet him. As he got closer he recognized the horse like face, and the elongated neck. An enormous kelpie had found them, black skinned and silver eyed. She uncurled herself curiously, dropping whatever illusion she had been creating that made her seem human. Dean only barely noticed the flicker of the illusion, having been too focused on the sea monster herself to see the girl she had appeared to be.

 

“Hello, sweetheart,” he said gently, reaching his hand out timidly, the same way one might to a stray cat. Deep clicks and rumblings answered him, as she nudged her enormous head against his fist. She rolled over playfully so he could scratch under her chin, and then swirled around him so he was briefly sucked down twelve feet underwater. She brought him back to the surface with a swish of her tail, and Dean found himself laughing in sheer delight.

 

Mary Winchester had told him to be careful of kelpies. They pretended to be women, or horses, and drowned men foolish enough to follow them to water. The only way to tame a kelpie was with a silver harness. Dean had no such device, and he felt in no way that the enormous creature he saw had been tamed. Still he felt no danger beside her. Instead he felt a kind of kinship, one that ran bone deep.

 

She let him crawl onto her back, and once he had a firm grip of her neck, she plunged beneath the water. He held his breath, the worry that she might not come up again never entering his mind. He let out a hoot of joy as she leapt from the water in a long arc, swimming towards the ship with incredible speed. It was then that Dean realized he’d found the solution to their problem.

 

She stopped beside the ship, using her tail to lift Dean up to the deck. Once he was aboard, she swam a short distance away. She was close enough that Dean could swim back to her with ease, but too far for Pamela or Alicia to shoot her accurately with a crossbow.

 

Cas was the first person to reach Dean.

 

“I’m beginning to think there are rocks with more wits than you have,” Cas snarled, catching Dean off guard with the depth of his hostility. “She could have killed you.”

 

“She didn’t,” said Dean. “Look at her. She’s harmless.”

 

“She’s not harmless.” Cas’ glare didn’t waver away from Dean’s face for an instant.

 

Dean felt anger build in response, unable to understand why Castiel didn’t know this was a good thing. Without the kelpie’s help, they would be sitting ducks for any monster to pluck from the water and do with them what it would, as surely every ship that had come this way before had been.

 

Dean looked past Cas, catching Hannah’s eyes. They looked back at him curiously.

 

“Fetch all the spare rope we have,” said Dean, still not looking at Cas. “If that’s alright with the captain.”

 

Cas went rigid with fury. Dean feared for a moment the man might hit him, something that had never happened before and Dean had never seriously thought Cas capable of. Then the moment passed and all emotion was once again hidden behind a cool mask of indifference.

 

“Give Dean what he asks for,” he said to Hannah. “And the rest of us can hope he doesn’t hang himself with it.”

 

With that, Castiel disappeared below deck, ostensibly to be sullen by himself. For the first time in a long time, Dean felt no compulsion to follow him. Not until Cas apologized or came up with a really good explanation for his behavior.

 

Instead, Dean helped the others to attach the ropes to different points on the ship, making sure not to put too much pressure on any one part. Then he dove into the water again, and waited as the crew above him knotted the ropes together. Dean waited as the kelpie drew close, her dark eyes trusting and unknowable in their monstrousness.

 

Dean slowly and carefully looped the ropes around her, tying them to create a harness. She allowed him to do so, but he found himself promising constantly that he would release her as soon as the ship was safe. His voice soothed her easily, and Dean climbed upon her back as a guest and not as a man attempting to tame her. Man and beast felt a kinship with each other that was instant and easy.

 

“You ready, girl?” he asked her, and her nostrils flared out mischievously. She took off with a quickness that both startled and delighted Dean. It was a speed he’d never known before in his life. The  _ Grace of God _ dragged behind them, creaking slightly at the force being exerted upon it.

 

Within the hour, the disturbingly placid stretch of sea that had found themselves trapped in was behind them, and an island loomed ahead in the distance. The kelpie slowed gradually, eventually coming to a stand still and looking back at Dean expectantly. Dean slid from her back, and cut the ropes so she was free to leave them. She made a deep clicking sound, and curled around him affectionately. Dean scratched the wide patch of skin between her eyes, as he might do for a horse. The kelpie nudged him with her nose, and then carefully lifted him up to the deck once again, coiling her tail around his waist and placing him gently over the starboard side. With another swish of her tail, she slunk beneath the water and disappeared.

 

***

 

_ After meeting Lisa, Dean had wondered at experiencing other people who weren’t Castiel. _

 

_ He wondered partly because somewhere inside him, he knew it would unbalance Cas. The man didn’t love him, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t feel slighted when Dean chose someone else’s bed. Especially because, as far as Dean knew, he was the only one Cas deigned to sleep with. _

 

_ Perhaps deigned wasn’t the right word. Dean was the only person Castiel allowed to seduce him, and perhaps that was only because, love or no, they had a shared past that mattered to both of them. However Cas rationalized his infidelity, it seemed only Dean met whatever qualifications he had put upon himself. _

 

_ So Dean seduced Max his first day back on the  _ Grace of God _. _

 

_ It wasn’t difficult. Max was close to Dean in age and temperament, and it was well known that Max Banes preferred men to the point of excluding women entirely. Max wasn’t one to question whether or not he should fuck a man past the matter of whether they wanted to fuck him and said so in a clear manner. _

 

_ While Max was quickly done, he was also quickly done with Dean. Not that Dean minded in particular. They were still friends, and both agreed a while later that neither was really the other’s type. _

 

_ The next on the list of Dean’s experimentation had been Pamela, who had honestly proved to be too much for him. They had engaged in what some might have called a brief, but passionate affair, and what Dean would have called the most exhausting week of his life. Even more than Max, it was clear to Dean that Pamela saw him as a body and not a person when it came to sex. He ended the arrangement with her, and she took neither offense nor interest in his reasoning. Instead she resumed her long standing tryst with Ash, a shipshand whose tendency to sleep on the job Dean now thought of with deepest empathy. _

 

_ And finally, there had been Victor. _

 

_ Victor had been a midshipman of the British Royal Navy stationed in the colonies. He was unwillingly impressed into the service, but had risen through the ranks to the incredulity of his peers. He was without competition in his drive to exceed expectations, and he had found himself drawn to Castiel’s crew because he saw it as his chance to escape his impressment and do some good in the world. He saw men that shared the color of his skin being transported as cargo and sold into bondage while he had been forced to chase down pirates on behalf of the same government who was committing these atrocities. It was not as if he cared that wealthy merchants were robbed at sea. _

 

_ Victor’s three months on the ship had been the closest Dean had managed to come to falling in love with someone who was not Cas. _

 

_ They hadn’t much liked each other at first. Dean was, after all, a member of the British nobility. A rich English son of a bitch who should have lived a blessed life for no other reason but the circumstances of his birth. Dean had been suspicious of Victor for abandoning oaths he’d made to the Navy so easily, not truly understanding how little choice Victor had had in taking on those responsibilities in the first place. Nor really reckoning with the hypocrisy of blaming someone for leaving an institution whose members Dean had few qualms killing in defense of the  _ Grace of God.

 

_ Cas’ policy when raiding ships and encountering people en route to be enslaved was to offer a place among his crew or the opportunity to be taken to the nearest port that would be friendly to them. Victor pushed him to do more than this. During the three months Victor was a member of Castiel’s crew, they would get as close as feasibly possible to returning people to their homes and families. They could not guarantee anyone’s safety once they left the  _ Grace of God _ , nor could they reunite anyone with family who had been taken in other ships. But at the very least they could bring people to places that were familiar to them, Victor had argued. Places where it wouldn’t be quite so hard to begin their lives again. Or at least get them as close as possible. It would not be perfect, but it would be something. _

 

_ Cas had not been able to adhere to this permanently. After several months of taking in too little money to maintain the bribes he was paying for Balthazar’s safety, Cas had told Victor they would need to change their strategy. Eventually he had made arrangements with Tasha Banes, Max and Alicia’s mother, who was able to connect Victor with a ship and crew of his own. The policy from then on was to arrange a point of meeting every three months or so where Cas would bring any people he had picked up to Victor, and Victor would continue his work of raiding slave ships along the African coastline and returning the people on board to their homes. Victor made a fine pirate in his own right, though he had to be quick with his firearm when rival pirates took issue with his right to authority. _

 

_ Before he left Cas’ crew, however, he and Dean had struck up a surprising friendship. Surprising partially because of how intensely they had disliked each other at first, but mostly because of the circumstances of how it had occurred. _

 

_ Uriel, who loathed Cas fiercely for reasons that never became entirely clear to Dean, had attempted to kidnap Dean when he had been ashore at Port Royal. Dean had been visiting the friends he had made at the brothel, as he usually did. Most of the women and the few men who worked there had long since figured out Dean’s ruse, though they still gossiped with him. When Dean had money that he had not saved away to repay his parents, he would buy drinks for his friends and this helped ease any misgivings they might have felt at misleading them about sharing an occupation. _

 

_ Victor had been at the same brothel in order to visit a woman he liked, Isabelle. By all accounts he was polite and paid well, which Dean had been relieved to hear. He did not like his chances of taking Victor in a fight, though he would not have hesitated to start one if Isabelle had been mistreated or Victor had failed to pay for services rendered. Victor had stayed after his visit to drink and eat, and so had been there when Uriel sent in six men to steal Dean away. _

 

_ Victor systematically shot three of them before they managed to finish threatening Dean at sword point. Everyone else in the room scattered, frantically searching out places to hide from the fire fight. Dean overturned a table and dodged behind it. He had not brought a weapon of his own. Victor, too, was forced to duck behind a barrier as Uriel’s men returned fire. _

 

_ Seeing Victor was still outnumbered, Dean had taken his chance and launched himself at the back of one of the three remaining men. He’d wrapped his arm around the man’s neck, and squeezed until the man dropped his gun. Unable to speak while Dean’s arm crushed his throat, the man was unable to warn his fellow crew members to Dean’s attack until he quite loudly fell to the floor, unconscious. _

 

_ Lightning quick, Dean collected the man’s fallen multi-barreled pistol and shot off the right hand of one of the remaining two men. The man’s gun hand landed on the floor with a wet crunch, and it wasn’t long before the man passed out from the shock of seeing his limb missing. Dean ducked behind the table again before the last man standing could shoot him. _

 

_ However, soon there was a loud thunk, and Dean peered around his hiding place to see Victor had hit his gun against the back of the last man’s head while he had been distracted by Dean. The man fell, knocked out cold. Victor frowned down at the six bodies littering the floor, and then looked towards Dean. _

 

_ “I think we’d better get back on the ship,” he’d said calmly, as if he was not the primary reason Dean was not dead, or worse, in the hands of Uriel and his crew. As if Victor had not cleared a room of his opponents with the kind of efficiency and power Dean found himself hopelessly attracted to. _

 

_ They fell into bed together that same night. Dean was glad to find Victor was a talented and enthusiastic participant. Victor did not have any particular affection for him yet, but Dean felt as though he saw him. Lisa had treated Dean with distant affection in bed. Max had treated him with camaraderie, but no real passion. Pamela had treated him as if he were a thing and not a person. Cas treated him as a mistake. A fluke that kept happening against all odds. _

 

_ Victor was different, because he treated Dean as Dean. _

 

_ Sometimes they were annoyed at each other, and sometimes they fought, and they never truly managed to cross the line from friendship to love. But they edged up to it, and they understood each other. Things were not complicated with Victor, and Dean never worried about speaking his mind when Victor was involved. There was no resentment between them. _

 

_ It wasn’t until Victor left that Dean realized their relationship had not been enough. Dean had been offered a spot aboard Victor’s ship, whether Cas approved it or not. Dean has said no. He had a promise to keep to Cas. Victor had not been surprised at this decision, but told Dean the offer was open into perpetuity. They had grown close enough that Victor wanted Dean to know he had a place with him, if Dean needed it. _

 

_ The night Victor left was the first night Dean sought out Cas since he had returned to the  _ Grace of God _. _

 

***

 

They were close to land when Castiel ordered Hannah to have Benny drop anchor. The plan that had been spread amongst the crew is that Castiel would pick ten men to go ashore with himself and inspect the wreckage of a ship they could see washed up on the rocky beaches of the island. Castiel had determined it a match for the ship they were searching for, but expressed hesitance at involving the entirety of the crew in case his determination proved to be false.

 

Dean read between the lines smoothly enough to know Castiel was worried some form of trickery or magic was involved, and he didn’t suppose he would be on the list of people allowed on the island to know for certain whether that was the case.

 

The ship looked solid enough to Dean, though there was a sense of foreboding that surrounded it. Dean’s palms flashed sometimes at him, as if in mild warning. The mysterious runes were still communicating with him, and Dean was unimpressed with his apparent role as messenger. There had to be an easier way for Castiel’s father to keep him in line than to constantly involve Dean.

 

Still, Dean dutifully informed Anna of his inklings, and she sternly informed Castiel that she expected him to take Dean with him until the danger had passed. Cas looked as though he wanted to protest, but a sharp look from Anna overruled him.

 

Cas chose from among his crew Charlie, Rowena, Dean, Alica and Max, Benny, Garth, Jo, and, surprisingly, Aileen and Sam. Dean grew suspicious when he saw Cas pull these last two aside and give them instructions different to the rest. Soon after, Cas consulted with Hannah of what they should do in case the exploratory party did not return. They would be setting out in the morning, Castiel announced. It was the last thing he said before returning to his quarters.

 

If he thought Dean would have any qualms about confronting him there, he was sorely mistaken.

 

Dean didn’t bother to knock when he came into Castiel’s room that night. He saw Cas sitting at his desk writing. He finished whatever he was doing with a signature and quickly folded the paper before Dean could catch sight of what he had been doing. He sealed it with wax, and tucked the note away in one of his drawers.

 

“I’ve come under the impression that you’re hiding things from me,” Dean said, without preamble.

 

“Not unreasonably,” Castiel answered coolly. But to Dean’s surprise, then he sighed and shook his head. He looked tired, but not as unapproachable as he usually did. “I want to apologize.”

 

Someone might have been able to knock Dean over with a feather, he was so surprised at the direction this conversation had taken. He had supposed he would have to drag explanations out of Castiel. He had prepared himself for a shouting match of sorts, not Castiel’s look of rueful awkwardness.

 

“I suppose there’s a first time for everything.”

 

“That… is also deserved, I suppose,” Castiel admitted quietly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted at ya.”

 

Dean nodded slowly. He agreed Castiel shouldn’t have shouted at him, but he didn’t expound on the issue. Instead he waited for Cas to get out everything he wanted to say, as he was suddenly certain there was more of it.

 

“I was worried,” Cas started, pausing a moment as though to consider his words. “Kelpies drown men, and you jumped into the water after one without even… It upset me.”

 

Dean still didn’t reply.

 

“But even after I saw you weren’t in immediate danger, and Anna informed me you had been acting under my… my father’s instructions,” said Castiel. “I found the feeling didn’t go away. I realize now I wasn’t truly angry at you. I was angry at myself for holding you to a promise you had no business making. I was the reason you were in danger.”

 

“I wasn’t in danger.”

 

Castiel looked away.

 

“You were. You are,” he said. “I have come to certain understandings that I mean to share with you, if you are equal to hearing them.”

 

“I’m not sure I like the sound of that,” Dean said. “Though I’d rather know if it concerns me.”

 

“It very unfortunately does,” said Cas. He opened the book in front of him, which was written in the same runes that were still scrawled across Dean’s skin. The book was illustrated with a creature of such immensity it did not seem the page could contain the artist’s rendering of it. Dean swore he could see the lines expanding outwards, the movement of wings fluttering off the edges of the paper.

 

“What is that?”

 

“The only other gift my father left me,” said Castiel, sounding grim. “In addition of leaving me a map to find him, he left me a book written in his own hand on angels. He wanted me to understand where I came from. Until I met you, this was the only language I could read. I spent years pouring over it. I practically know it by heart.”

 

“So?” Dean asked, frowning. Castiel looked back down at the pages.

 

“Angels cannot… they have to respect the sanctity of the human body,” said Cas. “They can’t enter or alter it, except by permission from the owner of that body. Usually, they have to be indirect, and send human agents to do their bidding.”

 

Dean pondered this a moment, looking once again at the swirling runes on his arms.

 

“But I… I gave no such permission. And I wasn’t visited by an agent of Gabriel’s.”

 

“I know,” said Cas. He looked back down at the pages of his book and swallowed, looking angry. “No permission is needed if an angel is in possession of the soul of the body in question.”

 

Dean felt his blood run cold.

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“Dean, when we would trade stories,” said Cas. “After… When you and I would…”

 

“I know what you mean, get on with it.”

 

“You told me a lot of the stories your mother told you,” he said. “She left the colonies with your father after she met a man with yellow eyes. I think that isn’t a coincidence. I have reason to believe she may have unwittingly made a pact to which she did not fully understand the consequences.”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“Mary Winchester was very convinced you had been kidnapped by fairies, Dean. Even for a hunter,” said Cas. “I think she made an arrangement with a spirit, not realizing she was forfeiting her first born. That spirit traded you for some favor or other to the fae, who alerted your mother to their claim on you. It’s why she taught you so much about them. It’s why they doted on you, the golden boy. I knew since I met you that the fae favored you, but I promise I couldn’t begin to guess why until today.”

 

Dean remembered, suddenly, Castiel’s comments and reactions on the stories he would tell about his home. Castiel had not questioned how Dean had thought that the brownies made sure that John Winchester never laid a hand on his family, and was convinced the fae were the reason that Dean Winchester never got sick, even when Mary or Sam or other children Dean knew did. He didn’t like the picture that was forming in his head.

 

“And when I… kidnapped you,” said Castiel, now entirely unable to look at Dean. “I have suspicions my father made a deal of his own and came into ownership of your-”

 

“Soul,” Dean finished for him.

 

“So when I determined to set out for this ship wreck he was able to alter your body without your permission,” Castiel finished. “Your sight. Your skin. Your perceptions of the world.”

 

“He made me a guard dog,” Dean said humorlessly, glaring heavenward for a moment. “I see the danger coming, and I protect you from it. Is that what he meant to do?”

 

“I think yes,” said Cas. “Kelpies are fickle creatures. They might turn on you, even if you think you have an understanding. My father sent instructions to you so that you would drown in my stead if something went wrong. I think he will continue to send you instructions on what to do as the danger grows more serious, to spare me the risk of dying.”

 

He sounded ashamed. Dean could think of no way to comfort him. It wasn’t Castiel’s fault, really, but there was no one else for Dean to direct his anger at. So instead Dean stewed in silence, hating that Castiel’s logic was sound and his explanation made more sense than Anna’s idea that Gabriel had chosen him because of his importance to Castiel.

 

He’d been chosen as Gabriel’s messenger of sorts because he was convenient. Because he was disposable.

 

“The way I feel about you,” said Dean, feeling as though his insides had been wrenched open. “Is that real? Or did Gabriel put it there so I would be a better guard dog for his son?”

 

“No,” Castiel said, looking rightfully disgusted at the suggestion. “He isn’t the right kind of angel for that. And he wouldn’t involve the others. Too many of them want me dead. Your feelings are your own. Cold comfort, I realize.”

 

This did in fact make Dean feel marginally better. As idiotic as it might have been for him to have fallen so deeply for Cas, at least it was his own idiocy. At least it was true, in the same way the strange machinations of love were true for anyone with a life much more normal than Dean’s had been.

 

“So I ask you that whatever instructions you receive, you tell them to me,” Castiel continued. “So that I can face them myself. If you are somehow compelled to protect me, I have told Sam and Aileen to look out for your wellbeing to the exclusion of my own.”

 

“You think your father will allow that?”

 

“I think he will if he doesn’t want my actions hidden from his sight entirely,” said Cas. “Rowena knows more than one spell that will make it impossible for him to protect me at all.”

 

All at once the runes on Dean’s arms lit up in a pattern, one after another. Castiel’s eyes scanned the pattern and he scowled expressively. Dean supposed Gabriel had sent a message to his son that Cas did not like.

 

“He is going to survive this,” Cas said stubbornly, obviously not speaking to Dean.

 

Dean tried to bury the concern that there was apparently a reasonable chance that he wouldn’t survive this journey, if Cas needed to argue with his father about it.

 

Cas looked at him, seeming to realize he’d spoken out loud. “I promise.”

 

“I believe you,” said Dean. “But there’s no need for you to take all of this on yourself. I have my own promises to keep. My life tied to yours, remember?”

 

Cas had nothing to say to this. He wished Dean a good night, and Dean left without complaining. It was good he did this, because Dean had enough to occupy his thoughts without being distracted by his very real desire to be with Castiel a final time, knowing it was a final time. The events surrounding Cas’ quest to release Balthazar had grown stranger, and Dean couldn’t shake the feeling that something darker and more important underlined their journey in ways even Castiel was only beginning to understand. But that didn’t mean the ultimate goal of plundering the wreckage had changed.

 

Dean wanted to pretend that Castiel was his one more time.

 

He felt the runes on his body burn white hot, and hissed at the pain. He looked upwards again in consternation. He’d never asked for an angel to monitor his thoughts, and it seemed rude to punish him for the same feelings that feathery bastard Gabriel was likely depending on to motivate Dean to protect his son. Just because he had not put them there didn’t mean he wouldn’t see the advantage.

 

Dean made a rude gesture towards the ceiling and continued on to where he knew his brother was staying.

 

He was surprised to find Sam and Aileen in bed together. They were fully clothed. Curled together, but not touching. It looked as though they had stayed up talking and simply fallen asleep where they were. It reminded Dean of the way children would curl up together out of exhaustion. It was a gesture of trust more than a gesture of romance, but Dean still felt himself smile that Sam had found someone who saw it in her heart to trust him so deeply.

 

Dean knocked loudly, startling Sam. Aileen stirred when she felt him sit up in bed and made a hand motion that Sam responded to with one of his own. Aileen looked up at Dean, unsurprised at his presence.

 

“Your captain spoke to you then,” she said. “Good. I am not your bodyguard, and I won’t stop you from killing yourself with your own foolishness.”

 

Dean couldn’t help but grin despite the circumstances. Sam really had lucked out with this girl, he thought to himself.

 

“Good to hear,” Dean said, noticing Sam signing his words to Aileen along with commentary of his own that made Aileen scowl. “I don’t want either of you to do that. I don’t want either of you to come.”

 

“You don’t have a say,” Sam said. “Aileen can stay behind if she wants-”

 

“I won’t,” said Aileen. “I’m curious about what is on the island. I thought I saw a bean sidhe near the shoreline.”

 

Sam’s face changed slightly at this information, and Dean realized he was missing something about why this would be important to Aileen.

 

“A banshee,” he explained to Dean, using the word their mother had taught them for the creature. “They can grant wishes, share knowledge. Or foretell death. Some scream so loudly when their predictions are wrong they drive their victims to kill themselves to escape the sound.”

 

And Aileen had lost someone to one, Dean surmised. Possibly her hearing as well, he added to himself. He didn’t not ask her about either. She would tell him in her own time or she would not. If Sam was not sharing the story, it was one she wanted to keep to herself.

 

“I wonder which of us is fated to die,” Dean said, an attempt at humor that neither Sam nor Aileen seemed to think all that funny.

 

“It isn’t hard to guess,” said Sam pointedly. “Maybe you should stay on board instead of us, Dean. Castiel would not stop you. I think it might relieve him, to know you were safe.”

 

“You almost sound like you don’t hate him anymore.”

 

“I misjudged him,” Sam qualified. “He cares about your wellbeing. That means something to me.”

 

Aileen made a snarky looking hand gesture that Sam huffed at in mild annoyance. He did not translate for Dean what she had said, which Dean thought was possibly unfair, since Sam translated his words to Aileen. No matter, Dean had said what he meant to say.

 

“If we all go tomorrow,” Dean said. “I want the both of you to look out for each other. I can look out for myself.”

 

Dean left Sam and Aileen to themselves after that, before Sam could protest or come up with some reason why he should be watching Dean’s back. Making his way to the main deck, Dean proceeded to climb up to the crow’s nest, where Jack was keeping watch under the light of the full moon.

 

Jack was pleasant enough company, if a bit chatty about his most recent misadventures with Krissy and Alfie. Dean tuned in and out of the conversation as he waited for morning, wondering what the next day would bring.

 

***

 

_ It was strange, how easy it was to fall back into Cas’ arms. It was both familiar, and new, because now Dean knew what it felt like to be held by someone else. To his great disappointment, it didn’t compare. Not because Cas was better than the subsequent lovers Dean had taken, but because Dean loved Cas and he hadn’t really loved any of the others. _

 

_ It was the first time Cas did not look wary when Dean showed up at the door to his quarters late at night. Instead, he looked relieved. Happy even. Dean had not realized how dour Cas had grown over the time Dean had been ignoring and avoiding him. He had been too busy with his own feelings to wonder at Castiel’s. He did not blame himself for this, especially since Cas was naturally reticent and protective of his private thoughts. He had made no attempt to tell Dean that he missed him, or attempted to attract Dean’s attention in any overt ways. _

 

_ “What do you want?” Cas had asked him, as if he didn’t know. As if he didn’t already look hungry for it, his eyes locked on Dean with a fervour that was unmistakable in its intentions. Dean laughed at Cas, slammed the door closed behind him, and made short work of attaching his lips to a sensitive stretch of skin below Cas’ jaw that Dean knew from experience left the captain weak kneed and highly suggestible. _

 

_ “What do  _ you _ want?” Dean asked. Cas met his eyes, and Dean saw nothing in them but lust. No regret, no hesitation. That would return soon, Dean knew. Cas was one to dwell on his failures, to let them drive him to distraction. But for some reason, that night Cas gave himself over completely to desire, leaving no walls between himself and Dean. _

 

_ Dean’s good luck ended late the next morning. He woke up to find Cas sitting up in bed, staring pensively at the ceiling in quiet misery. Dean was unsurprised when he was tersely ordered to get dressed and leave. He complied, but he left with a knowledge he held close to his heart with a primal, savage delight. For one night, Cas had been wholly his. Dean knew this because Castiel had not remembered to feel guilty for far too long for anything else to be true. _

 

***

 

They went ashore in two boats. Cas, Rowena, Sam, Aileen, and Dean took the one, while Benny, Jo, Charlie, Garth, Alicia, and Max took the other. It was about a half an hour rowing to shore and in that time Dean found himself trying and failing to think of something to say to Castiel. He couldn’t shake the feeling that one or both of them were rowing to their deaths, and perhaps  _ something _ should be said about the matter.

 

But what was there to say? What hadn’t been cleared between the both of them yet, whether or not Dean was satisfied with the answer.

 

“Why did you keep me?” he asked Cas, speaking in an undertone. Unfortunately he could not speak low enough that Sam did not hear him. His brother looked up in interest and Dean cursed himself for not waiting a little longer. Still, he had started his question, and now there was no way forward but to finish it. “When my father stopped sending money?”

 

“Your mother continued to send money,” said Cas.

 

“But much less.”

 

“Yes, well she made up the difference in other ways,” said Cas, not looking at Dean. “Werewolf hearts, fairy wings, trinkets of power. One of the women we sell to at Port Royal, Bela, pays well enough for items that are authentically occult. Rowena has been selling her hex bags for years to supplement her income.”

 

“Aye,” Rowena confirmed, absentmindedly.

 

Sam frowned, apparently unaware that Mary had been doing this. Dean supposed their mother had not wanted Sam to worry about how she was procuring these things, or if she hunted recklessly in order to ensure that Dean’s ransom was still being paid. It made Dean’s heart hurt, that his mother might have put herself in danger to make sure Dean was not harmed. It was so needless.

 

“I see,” was all Dean said in return. The discovery hurt in more ways than one. Dean knew part of the reason Cas had been unable to let him go was because of the friendship they shared. But it was a small reason compared to the money, and Dean’s moments of wondering about why Cas would not mention the lack of money were gone now. It had been an interesting few days, but Dean’s instincts had held true. He really was no more than a little extra money and an old friend owed a small amount of loyalty. At least he was no more than that to Cas. “I’ll be sure to repay her first of all, then. Since she risked her life making sure mine was not in any danger.”

 

Cas did not meet his eye.

 

“It didn’t occur to me to think she would be,” he said.

 

“Yes well, it seems there are many things that never occurred to you,” Dean muttered. Cas’ expression closed off, but the water around them grew rougher as they drew closer to shore. Dean could tell somehow this was a result of Castiel’s state of mind. No wonder people had mistaken him for a sea god, Dean thought to himself. Cas’ bad moods came with small storms. Dean had always thought the opposite was true, but looking back now he realized the causation clear as day. What a strange thing it must be to belong half to the sea and half to the sky.

 

They landed soon enough, though it was still dark. The sun refused to rise much above the horizon, and the billowing clouds that Cas’ dark thoughts had summoned let in little enough light to see by. They decided to light a fire and wait until the sun was high enough above them that they could see clearly what they were doing.

 

Dean spent his time waiting by speaking with Charlie, Benny, and Garth, who all were merry enough despite the situation. He managed to laugh even, and remind himself that his love for Castiel was not all he cared about in the world. He had friends, he had a brother and a mother who wanted him to return home, and he had himself. He would survive his despair.

 

It was once these feelings of renewed confidence firmly took their hold, that Dean let his guard down a moment. Then, they were attacked.

 

***

 

_ Dean realized one day that he had never asked Castiel directly about Balthazar. _

 

_ He’d asked Charlie and listened to her appraisal of the man. He’d seen the look on Cas’ face whenever the man was brought up, and heard Cas tell him that Balthazar would always count more than Dean would when it came to Cas’ affections. But he didn’t know the specifics of how the both of them had come together, and it suddenly seemed an important story. One he needed to know. _

 

_ So he had pulled Cas aside one morning when they were both ashore and Dean had bought two bags of peanuts for the both of them. They walked out and sat in a field, discarding the shells, and talked about nothing in particular for a while. _

 

_ When Dean finally found the courage to ask what he wanted to know, Castiel was relaxed enough that he didn’t reject the question out of hand. Instead he looked at Dean thoughtfully. _

 

_ “Why do you want to know?” _

 

_ “I spend years helping to save a man’s life and I’m not allowed to be a little curious about him?” Dean said in return. Cas smiled despite himself. “Pretend for the moment I am nothing more than a friend-” _

 

_ “You are nothing more than a friend.” _

 

_ “Well then, it should be easy for you,” said Dean. “Tell me about him.” _

 

_ Cas was silent for a long time. When he spoke, it was in no great detail. He didn’t describe Balthazar’s looks, or his manner, or any of the other things Charlie had told Dean about. Instead he told Dean what role Balthazar had played shaping his life. _

 

_ He painted a picture in broad strokes. Cas had been spared from being killed during a raid on a port he had been stationed at because Balthazar had decided he liked him. Balthazar had spoken up for him when Cas had found himself on the wrong side of a mutiny (staying loyal to the captain had proven to be the incorrect choice in that case). He had been the first person who had ever kissed Castiel, and the first person Castiel had ever realized he could love. They got married, even though Balthazar thought the entire exercise was pointless. Balthazar helped Cas start building the funds for a ship and a crew of his own. _

 

_ It was the first time Dean understood how much of an impact this other man had had on Castiel’s life. He was no longer a shadowy figure that seemed to exist only to frustrate Dean’s own aspirations of love. He was a real flesh and blood person who had shaped part of Castiel’s life. _

 

_ It made it very hard to hate the man, as Dean had spent some time doing, even if he did not like to admit it to himself. _

 

_ Castiel had finished his story with Balthazar’s arrest and imprisonment. Then his eyes had gone glassy, and he had ceased speaking altogether. Dean reached out and took his hand, and the look Cas gave him could only be described as grateful. _

 

_ Perhaps, Dean thought to himself that afternoon, it would be enough to know that Castiel would be happy with Balthazar. Maybe that was what love was. Or what it would have to be for Dean. _

 

_ He didn’t think he would love anyone else the same way he had loved Cas. But perhaps Lisa had been right. Dean could learn to love someone else. He had come very close with Victor. Maybe when all of this was said and done, and Dean’s parents had been repaid the money Dean had lost them, Dean would seek out Victor’s ship and they could pick up where they left off. Or maybe Dean would find someone else or no one else at all and that would be alright. _

 

_ The only thing Dean was certain of was that it was very important nothing within his power ever caused another grief-stricken look to cross Cas’ face. And if that meant standing aside and giving Cas up without a fight, so be it. _  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this story is five parts now, because I realized I was trying to cram waaaaay too much plot into this third part.
> 
> Warning further explained: there is a fight scene in which someone has their hand shot off, other unnamed sailors die in the same fight
> 
> As ever, if I missed something that needs to be warned for, or otherwise put my foot in my mouth, please let me know!
> 
> If you liked it, I'd love to hear from you as well :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: graphic violence, major character death (temporary)

Banshees looked like crones. Elderly women who were seen washing the clothes of those about to die. If you found yourself in the presence of one with no such bad luck hanging over your head, you could request a favor from them or ask that they answer a question. If you were fated to die, and were not doing so in a timely matter, a banshee would scream until the job was done by your own hand.

 

This was what Mary Winchester had told Dean about the creatures, framed more eloquently around the wrappings of a bedtime story. The reality was so much more awful and immediate.

 

“It’s a ban-sithe,” Castiel shouted as the screaming grew louder and louder. Only Dean and Aileen were unaffected by the noise completely, and Castiel to a certain extent was resistant to the awful sound. But the others had such a look of unwellness about them that Dean feared the worst, and it was not long until Garth, gentle soul, lifted up a rock and attempted to bash in his own head. Dean knocked him to the ground, the rock landing outside of his reach.

 

Unfortunately, the others had similar ideas, and there weren’t enough immune to stop them. It was with a growing horror that Dean realized Cas was the only thing stopping Sam from ramming a knife into his own skull. Aileen did not stop to help any of the others, which struck Dean as more coldhearted than he thought she was. At least it did until she pulled out a blade that caught the morning sun as if it were pure gold.

 

“There is no such thing as fate, you foul thing,” she snarled in her altered Irish, and then swiped her blade across the floating creatures middle. “And now there is no such thing as you.”

 

The banshee’s dusky lilac skin began to bubble black, and her scream petered out into an injured whining, animalistic and frightened. She looked at Aileen with not hatred, but complete lack of understanding. It was not a creature who thought she could die.

 

Aileen slashed the creature once more, bloody vengeance twisting her features to something savage. Finally, she stabbed the creature, leaving the blade buried in the banshee’s middle. Freed of the mind melting scream of the banshee, Sam reached for Aileen, pulling her back from the banshee, who had begun to pulse with light. Aileen turned and searched Sam’s eyes.

 

“You killed it,” he mouthed carefully at her.

 

But the banshee did not die peacefully. Bright light exploded from every inch of it, and the last thing Dean remembered feeling was being flung to the ground.

 

***

 

_ “I am doing you a favor,” she said. She looked oddly like Millicent Winchester, Dean’s paternal grandmother. Kind and warm, but with a far off look that spoke of a harder life than her wealth would have you believe. Dean did not remember this. He could not account for it. “I’m showing you the truth.” _

 

_ “I didn’t ask for your favor,” Dean responded, not knowing why. His grandmother smiled at him and pinched his cheek. Dean flinched away from the cold of her hands. It struck him suddenly that this creature was not his grandmother. And that this creature was an echo of a being now dead. “All these memories…” _

 

_ “To show you what you have not considered,” she said. “To show you what you have missed.” _

 

_ “The death omen wasn’t for me,” he said. “All of this… It’s a trap. For Cas.” _

 

_ “You cannot save him. No one can,” she said. “It is his time to go. Gods old and new agree, and it is the will of the angels. Not even his father can change what is written in the books of Death.” _

 

_ Something itched at Dean’s memory. _

 

_ “There is no such thing as fate. I was supposed to be a servant of the fae. You were supposed to live, not die at the hands of your victim.” _

 

_ “The dead themselves will rise to take him,” the banshee warned, her appearance now doubled over the image of Dean’s grandmother. _

 

_ “They will have to take me first.” _

 

_ “So be it then. I am showing you the truth. Not what you must do with it,” the old woman said again. Dean shook his head violently. He looked down at his arms, surprised to find them now covered in runes that pulsed angrily in response to the woman’s claims. He would prove her wrong, truth or no. “You are resigned to lose him to another already, and with death comes peace. More peace than he could ever know in life. He will finally find a kind of happiness. A kind of rest.” _

 

_ “Die foul thing,” Dean said simply. “And get out of my head.” _

 

_ Dean heard a distant screaming, an awful noise so wrenching that it drove him near madness. _

 

_ And then… he was awake. _

 

***

 

Dean sat up straight, his heart pounding and his hands trembling. He was surprised to see Castiel standing over him, his hand reached out as though he had been about to touch Dean’s face. The cool sea air and darkening sky told Dean hours had passed since he and the other had been knocked out. Their bodies slept on around them under the thrall of whatever echo remained of the dead banshee.

 

Sam snored the loudest, Dean thought to himself distantly.

 

“You’re awake,” Cas said in surprise. Dean nodded warily. “What did you see?”

 

_ You _ , did not strike Dean as an appropriate answer. The way their lives had tangled together, and the ways in which Cas had let him down. An entire argument for why Dean should abandon Cas to his fate and save himself, and why no one would argue that was the wrong thing to do.

 

“What did you see?” Dean asked in return. Cas’ expression hardened. “You only just woke?”

 

“Aye. Only just before you,” he said, though the way his eyes shifted gave Dean the impression that he was lying. Whatever the banshee had wanted to impress upon Cas had not taken long then.

 

They stared at each other, an unspoken agreement not to entrust the other with their dreams. They did not want to know what revelations the banshee had sought to bestow on them. Dean did not want Cas getting it in his head that Dean would let him die. Or that he deserved to die, when no one had truly given him the chance to live yet.

 

“Can we help them?” Dean asked, only to see Garth groan and wake up soon as well. Dean rushed to his side. “What did you see?”

 

“I’m going to have a family someday,” Garth said with a sweet smile. It was as much as Dean could do not to laugh at the unintentional cruelty of it. Fate did not seem so bad when it promised such sweet fruits, he was sure. “Though I am married to a werewolf in the colonies, which confused me.”

 

Dean supposed there would as well be a catch at such a prediction.

 

One by one the others woke. Alicia and Max woke from a shared dream space in which they relived their moments with their father and were shown the love he had always had for them, even though he kept his connection to them secret. Jo woke angrily, clutching at her firearm and refusing to speak plainly about it, though Dean got the sense the fire in her eyes was there to hide a deep hurt that had been reopened. Dean knew Jo to be a runaway, and he wondered if the banshee had shown her that other life she had not lived with her infrequently mentioned mother.

 

Benny woke with a bone-chilling gasp, and refused to discuss in any terms what he had seen. Dean was surprised the normally affable man had gone so quiet and introspective, and it worried him deeply. Sam woke easily, looking more baffled than anything else. Dean pulled him aside and soon knew that Sam had learned something surrounding the circumstances of their mother’s bargain with the spirit. She had bargained for her freedom, and unwittingly given up Dean in the trade. Dean’s lack of surprise clearly hurt Sam.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” he demanded.

 

“Cas only just told me,” said Dean. “There wasn’t time. Besides, I don’t belong to hell any longer. I was sold to the fae and sold again-”

 

“To the angel Gabriel,” Sam interrupted. “But hell is still owed a soul Dean, and I was marked in your place.”

 

Dean froze.

 

“You’re certain?”

 

“Banshees answer questions. They don’t lie,” said Sam. Both brothers contended with this in silence. They were interrupted in their thoughts by Castiel, who stopped them both to point towards Rowena and Charlie’s bodies still lying prone on the sand.

 

“It’s been much longer for them since the others woke,” he said quietly, his voice breaking with strain. Dean nodded. He knew that aside from Anna, Charlie and Rowena were Cas’ closest friends. They were like a sister and a second mother to him, respectively, and losing them would be a blow Cas would struggle to recover from.

 

Aileen too lay a distance from the others. She, likewise, was still asleep. Sam hurried to her side. He shook her gently, begging her to wake. Aileen’s eyes remained closed and her breathing even.

 

Dean started after to comfort his brother, but Cas stopped him. Although Dean could not read the expression on his face, he got the sense that Cas had thought of a plan that would involve something Dean would not like.

 

“I told you the story of my parents,” he said. “How they… became one being housed in my mother’s body.”

 

“I don’t take your meaning,” said Dean, unsure of the relevancy of the anecdote.

 

“He became her,” Cas stressed. “Entering other people’s minds without permission is a delicate process, and one I have no real practice in. The part of me that can do that is vast and inhuman. It took hours for any of you to wake up, and I already considered…”

 

Dean remembered Cas standing over him when he had woken.

 

“But I was sure you would survive it,” Cas finished shortly. “I am not sure about them.”

 

“What do your parents have to do with it?”

 

“A vessel can enter another human mind without permission or the damage caused by an angel trying to force their way in alone. It would be a gentler approach,” said Cas. “I could ask one of the others to allow me in, but I’m not only an angel. It’s not natural for me to take a vessel. It could hurt them in ways you should be safe from.”

 

Cas gestured towards the runes on Dean’s body. It made Dean realize it was a dangerous thing Cas was asking him to do, and that he was hoping Gabriel’s protections on Dean extended to this matter. Dean trusted Cas not to ask him to do this if he was not convinced otherwise, but did not like the idea of Cas free to roam in his mind.

 

“Is there any other way?” Dean asked. Cas looked back at the bodies grimly.

 

“We can wait.”

 

It was near dark now. They had no idea what creatures might come for them in the night, and protecting three people unable to defend themselves might prove impossible. Dean nodded his understanding. It was best if this was dealt with immediately.

 

“We won’t wait,” said Dean. “Any and all permission you need. Just leave me whole when you’re finished?”

 

“Of course,” Cas said. He hesitated a moment, and then leaned in to press his lips firmly to Dean’s mouth. It was not a kiss, really. Dean closed his eyes and felt as warmth spread through him, tendrils of lightning hot power easing into his body. When he opened his eyes again, Cas was gone. Dean felt his hands move without his direction.

 

It was terrifying.

 

Dean felt something within himself react to the fear and contract backwards. Dean could breathe with his own lungs again and shuffle his feet, and he was dizzy with relief. He was in control. He tried not to think of the fact that he was in control because Castiel allowed it.

 

_ I can leave. _

 

Dean shook his head sharply, realizing moments later how insane he must look doing so. Alicia was already staring at him in astonishment, and soon would have the others’ attention. Dean had no desire to answer the questions, and they had little time before the sun went down. They needed to get through to Aileen, Rowena, and Charlie now.

 

“Where did Cas go?” Alicia asked. Dean opened his mouth to answer, but felt someone else speak in his place.

 

“No time to explain,” said Castiel through his mouth. “I need to wake them up.”

 

Alicia warily stepped aside as Dean strode towards Charlie first. She looked peaceful asleep, much smaller than her usual ferocious self. Dean knelt beside her and let Castiel take the reins again. Cas used Dean’s hand to touch Charlie’s forehead, and closed Dean’s eyes.

 

***

 

_ When Dean’s eyes opened again, he and Castiel existed as two physical manifestations of themselves in an unfamiliar room. Although there was nothing visible linking them, it felt as though there was a tether between them. Dean got the sense he was guiding Cas through Charlie’s mind. _

 

_ “You’re not supposed to be here,” a small voice hissed. Dean and Cas both turned to see a young redheaded girl tucked under her covers. Her face was covered with pox, pus filled and close to bursting. Her hair clung to her sweaty cheeks, and although there were traces of healthy baby fat, she had grown so frail and thin that most of it had melted away. “You need to leave.” _

 

_ Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Cas stopped him. He pointed towards the other side of the room they were in, where a woman who looked remarkably like a slightly older version of Charlie stood in the doorway holding a book of poetry by Isabella Wheatley and Francis Godwin’s  _ The Man in the Moone.  _ She smiled sadly at Charlie and sat by her bedside. _

 

_ “I wanted to read to you,” she said gently, and Dean realized that the way she spoke was too refined for Charlie to have come from as humble beginnings as Dean had always imagined. In fact this younger version of Charlie spoke much the same way Dean did, and not at all like the poor children who begged on the street for spare change. Not the way Charlie spoke now. Then again, Charlie couldn’t be older than seven or eight in this memory. _

 

_ “Did you know?” Dean asked Cas as he watched as Charlie’s mother sat at her bedside and read to her. Charlie’s pain seemed to ease as she listened to her mother. _

 

_ “No,” said Cas, his eyes stuck fast to this young version of Charlie. “I did not.” _

 

_ They watched, despite the precious time they knew they were wasting. It was hard not to. Charlie’s memory had conjured up a picture that had thrown both Cas and Dean into a strange state of longing. Cas for a childhood in which someone had bothered to read to him, and Dean for his own mother and the stories she told him every night. _

 

_ “How do we get her out?” Dean asked at long last, after they had listened to their fill. Cas came back to himself and thought. _

 

_ “The banshee is trying to answer questions we have. About the past, the future, the present,” said Cas. “The question we wonder about most but are too afraid to ask.” _

 

_ “Why?” Dean asked. _

 

_ “It’s a punishment,” said Cas. “Very rarely do you get the answer you want to hear.” _

 

_ Dean pondered on that a moment. He wasn’t sure how to proceed knowing that he had been told in no uncertain terms that Cas’ death was imminent and there was nothing he could do to stop it. In his own mind, it had seemed easy to refuse. Knowing how little power he had in the real world… _

 

_ Dean was drawn from his thoughts on the matter when he heard Charlie speak again, and realized the memory was repeating. He furrowed his brow, and watched as Charlie’s mother sat beside her and began to read once more. _

 

_ “Why isn’t she waking up, Cas?” Dean asked. “I shot through a lot of memories. They didn’t repeat like this.” _

 

_ Cas frowned thoughtfully. _

 

_ “I think…” he said, slowly drawing closer to Charlie’s bed side as he pondered. “I think the memory is wrong. Charlie changed it.” _

 

_ Dean wasn’t sure what that meant, but he followed Cas, if only because the tether between them dragged him in Cas’ wake. He was close enough to hear Charlie’s mother whisper “I love you, Celeste” before kissing her daughter on the forehead and leaving once again. The memory had been shorter this time, almost as though Charlie sensed she was being observed. _

 

_ The next time Charlie said “You’re not supposed to be here,” she looked directly at Cas as she said it. _

 

_ “No,” said Cas gently. “I’m not.” _

 

_ He sat by her bedside and watched as Charlie worried her lip. _

 

_ “This isn’t how it really happened, is it Charlie?” Cas asked. She shook her head, her chin quivering now. Dean wanted nothing more than to hug her and tell her it was going to be alright. But he didn’t approach. He didn’t want to overwhelm her. _

 

_ “No,” she said. “I asked her to come. I didn’t know what was happening to me, I was so sick. I wanted her to read to me. I didn’t know.” _

 

_ Cas looked back at Dean. _

 

_ “Smallpox,” he said quietly, and Dean understood. It was a disease that wiped out entire families, spreading from one household member to the other. _

 

_ “Mum and Dad were supposed to stay away from my room, but I wanted them to read to me,” said Charlie. “I begged them to.” _

 

_ Cas leant down and kissed Charlie’s forehead, but she just continued to cry. _

 

_ “It’s my fault they’re dead.” _

 

_ They waited, but the banshee did not end the dream there. Instead, Charlie cried and cried, and Dean found he could not hold himself back anymore. He knelt beside her and let her throw her arms around his shoulders. _

 

_ “You were just a child Charlie,” he said. “It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Sometimes awful things just happen, and the only thing to do is move forward. You need to let this go. It wasn’t your fault.” _

 

***

 

Dean found himself murmuring the same words to Charlie in the real world. She saw him, his hands still on her face. For a moment, Dean did not know how she would react. Then she sat up and hugged him tightly. Hugged both of them, Dean realized, as he felt the sadness resonate through the parts of himself that were Castiel.

 

“No need to get soft on me now,” Dean muttered.

 

Charlie elbowed him in the side. Then she took his proffered hand to stand herself up, and accepted hugs from Jo and Alicia, who had also come to kneel at her side. Jo kissed her gently, and asked what had happened, and Dean let them to themselves to have their own private reunion. It would be dark soon, and they would need Rowena should anything attack in the night. Sam would protect Aileen in the meantime, Dean was sure. She would need to be last.

 

Just as he thought it, they heard a bone-chilling howl sound in the distance. Their party stopped their celebration that Charlie had woken, and turned to look at Dean. Dean who was also Castiel, their captain.

 

Castiel spoke through Dean’s lips.

 

“Magick a safe haven, Alicia and Max. Ward it as best as you can. Benny and Jo, scout ahead in the forest, but never more than forty feet from the perimeter, is that clear? The rest of you keep your eyes out and weapons drawn, and don’t shoot Jo nor Benny by mistake once they get back, is that clear?”

 

Everyone jumped to, aside from Sam, who refused to leave Aileen’s side. He held her hand in his, drawing symbols in some sort of code the two had made up between themselves. Begging her to wake, Dean was sure. Aileen did not stir.

 

_ We can’t think of that now _ , sounded a voice inside his mind.  _ We’ll need Rowena sooner _ .

 

Dean knew this, but resented the reminder. He checked first that Alicia and Max really were knowledgeable enough in witchcraft to draw sigils of sufficient power. Whatever sixth sense the runes on his body had provided for him confirmed the warding’s potency. Being thus reassured, Dean made his way to Rowena’s limp body. Once again, he placed his hand against Rowena’s face and fell into a world of dreams.

 

***

 

_ Rowena’s mind was quite different from Charlie’s. Dean almost didn’t recognize the odd displaced feeling of being in someone else’s head. Her mind was hostile and defensive, and Dean knew instantly that Rowena knew the both of them were there. Dean and Cas existed in her head surrounded by darkness, and the air felt cloth thick and stifling. _

 

_ “She doesn’t want us here,” said Castiel evenly. _

 

_ “No shit,” said Dean. “I wouldn’t want someone I treated as a son looking through my mind, either. It would be much too easy to find something that would disappoint them.” _

 

_ Cas considered this a moment. He took a step forward into the blackness, some of it dissipating like fog before them. He stopped, wincing slightly. Dean took a step after him and felt the resistance building against their presence. It felt like a headache, slowly building. _

 

_ “Rowena, please,” Cas called out. The pain lessened, but the resistance against their presence did not. “We just want to help you. We want you to wake up.” _

 

_ Two rings of purple glowed in the distance. It was a moment before Dean realized these were a pair of eyes watching the both of them. Rowena’s eyes. Words in languages long gone surrounded them, and felt as real as feathers against their skin. Dean drew closer to Cas, pulling him back from Rowena. He wasn’t afraid yet, but he was wary. This was a very different version of the woman he thought he knew. _

 

_ “You wouldn’t,” Rowena finally said, in a voice that was many voices. “You wouldn’t want to help me if you knew what I truly was. You wouldn’t want me for anything more than my power.” _

 

_ The word power echoed across the blackened space, still hiding the illusions Rowena was being shown from Dean and Cas. Dean felt like an intruder in the worst possible way, and he shuddered at the thought of being rendered so vulnerable. He did not blame Rowena for not wanting them there. _

 

_ “That isn’t true,” said Cas. “You’re like family.” _

 

_ “Ah, dear lad, don’t you see how I treat people who are like family to me? Or do you think Crowley is lying?” she asked, her face beginning to take shape. The darkness around them shifted, inch by inch. Dean had not known what he expected to see, but it was not this. “I abandoned my own flesh and blood as a babe and sold my own gifts to the highest bidder, do you really think I won’t do the same to you?” _

 

_ Rowena’s vision was  _ them _. It was their party fighting tooth and nail against an army of the dead risen again, awful hellbeasts snarling against their borders. Dean could only make out the doglike outline of them, and he screamed as he saw one bite into the meet of Jo’s calf. The scream echoed strangely around Rowena’s mind. _

 

_ “Rowena,” Cas tried, but before he could continue, the vision focused further. There was Rowena at the edge of the warding. Before her stood Samhain himself, touching her cheek and promising her the world at her feet, and freedom from fear, at last. _

 

_ Promising her anything and everything should she simply break the warding. Safety, security, love. Anything she desired… _

 

_ “It isn’t who you are,” said Cas. “Not now. Not for a long time.” _

 

_ “You don’t know that,” said Rowena, turning to Cas with such strange old eyes. “You don’t know anything at all, you poor little boy. You’re not even human, why do you keep pretending?” _

 

_ “And you  _ are _ human,” said Cas in return. “Why do you keep pretending you’re not? It is frightening to need other people. I know that more than most. But love is not the enemy, Rowena. I know, in my heart of hearts, that you know that. And you love each of us. You’ve grown to.” _

 

_ Rowena stared at him unblinkingly, though the purple in her eyes faded slowly to her usual dark green. _

 

_ “If I wake, and I betray you-” _

 

_ “You won’t,” said Cas. “That’s not you anymore. And when it was I know you had good reasons. Even if the people you hurt before will never forgive you, I do. A million times over. Perhaps I have no right to do it on their behalf, but I do.” _

 

_ Rowena’s expression did not change, but the scene around them did. The Rowena of the Banshee’s vision, the one Samhain was whispering sweet nothings to, suddenly sported a wicked grin on her face. With a quickly worded spell and a push of incredible power, Rowena burned half of the demon’s body away. The dead around him began to catch fire, purple flames devouring them with unparalleled energy. _

 

_ “All you need to do is see the truth of who you are,” said Cas. “And who you are is awesome, and terrible, and so very loved.” _

 

_ She looked at him, and her face began to thaw. She looked herself again, poised and sly and not a little mischievous. But not without kindness either. _

 

_ “Wake up, Rowena.” _

 

***

 

Dean knew he was in the waking world again, because he heard the sand shifting as Jo and Benny sprinted back to their places behind the warding. He opened his eyes to find pawprints falling down in the sand behind them, and copper red birds flew in the invisible beasts’ wake, their poisonous breath tainting their stirring songs.

 

And behind them came an army of long dead men, their bodies reanimated with malevolent force. The bodies carried their former masters’ weapons, their cutlasses and knives and pistols and crossbows. Some of them men looked to have been gnawed on by wild animals, while others still bore the grievous wounds that had killed them. Dean supposed every ship that had come looking for the treasure had added to their numbers, more hosts for these dark souls to feed upon and possess.

 

It was the Wild Hunt of Samhain, and Castiel and his crew were the hunted. Dean could feel already how heavily strained the warding was by the cumulative power of so many hungry spirits, souls too awful for even hell to hold them. The scent of evil was so thick in the air, Dean thought he might be sick from it. The others of their party huddled together within the perimeter, looking to each other with fear.

 

“They don’t look so nice,” Garth commented calmly, apparently unaffected by the horrendous nature of hell. At least unaffected compared to the rest of them. Dean supposed if anyone were to have the ever-patient composure of a saint, it would be Garth.

 

Dean looked to Sam, who had dragged Aileen’s body to the center of the ring where it was furthest from any threat. He went to her, though he felt resistance build inside him from Castiel.

 

_ I need to help the others. _

 

“They will last long enough,” Dean said, pushing through the resistance in his muscles to join by Aileen’s side. Sam looked at him, his eyes focusing and their usual intelligence animating them once again.

 

“You can wake her up.”

 

“We think so,” said Dean, not wanting to promise in case it did not work. “But-”

 

“You go into their minds,” said Sam sharply. He looked down at Aileen, stubborn determination coloring his expression. “Can you bring me with?”

 

Cas did not like the sound of it, especially when the others would need all the help they could get holding the line. Rowena would be doing the lionshare of the work without him, and if she faltered…

 

“It will be quicker,” Sam said. “She trusts me more than either you or the captain.”

 

This swayed Cas’ thinking somewhat. The others were ready to fight already, drawing their weapons, looking to Rowena to guide them. Some of the Cu Sidhe, the hellhounds, had begun testing at the wardings’ borders, retreating as they felt the sting of Alicia and Max’s spellwork. Still, they didn’t have much time. Cas nodded Dean’s head, agreeing to Sam’s plan, and reached out to grasp Sam’s hand. His other hand he pressed to Aileen’s forehead, and once again Dean felt the lurching unrealness of entering another person’s mind.

 

***

 

_ Aileen’s visions were as different to Rowena’s and Charlie’s as they had been to each other’s. Hers was not a memory, nor the present moment played out to its potential end. _

 

_ Instead, Aileen herself was the crone. She was banshee and woman in one, and she wandered the moors with a horrific aimlessness. Each breath she took told her loneliness, and each step smacked with regret. There were no sounds, only vibrations and the sensations of movement. _

 

_ Dean found he could not speak. Or at least, he could not hear himself speak. He looked to Cas, who was once again attached to him as though through a tether. He too was unable to call out to Aileen in anyway. _

 

_ It was Sam that ran after her. It was Sam who stopped this wizened Aileen, and moved his hands swiftly in conversation with her. The two argued back and forth, and for once Dean understood every word as if it were being translated for him. _

 

“Aileen, you need to wake up,”  _ Sam signed desperately. She looked past him, not acknowledging him. “ _ Aileen- _ ” _

 

_ “ _ What is the point? _ ” Aileen signed. “ _ I have lived so long wanting to make the death of my parents right. I killed the beast that took their lives, but nothing changed. I still feel this… this emptiness. You don’t want that. You don’t want me, not really. No one ever did. _ ” _

 

_ “ _ But I  _ do _ want you, _ ” Sam said. Aileen began to argue back. “ _ I don’t care in what capacity. I will be your loyal friend, your companion, your partner, whatever you will have of me. You don’t have to let your future be ruled by the worst of your impulses. You don’t have to be alone. _ ” _

 

_ “ _ I always have been, _ ” Aileen signed, crossly. “ _ And I can take care of myself. I don’t need anyone, Sam. Not even you. _ ” _

 

_ “ _ You don’t, _ ” he signed in return. “ _ Then I suppose it will be no trouble for you to leave this place on your own either. _ ” _

 

_ Aileen glowered at him, her skin transforming to the off-purple of the banshee and back again. The creature had latched onto her tightly, and did not want to let go. It would show her the truth, as it must, but it would do so in as roundabout and awful a way as possible so as to sap Aileen’s will to learn what she must know. So as to keep her trapped until her body withered away to nothing. _

 

_ “ _ She won’t let me go. _ ” _

 

_ “ _ You won’t let her go, _ ” signed Sam. Aileen took this in. “ _ And that’s okay. It’s hard to find the thing responsible for so much pain in your life, and stop hating it. Stop wanting to wreak retribution. _ ” _

 

_ Cas looked unsettled at this revelation. It was not hard to guess who Sam wished to wreak his revenge on. Dean supposed Cas never really had thought about how he must appear to Dean’s family after years of holding Dean’s safe return over the Winchesters’ heads. He was, to put it simply, the villain in Sam Winchester’s story. Or he had been for a very long time. _

 

_ Dean tried to think of something to say to Cas, but he was distracted as the vision changed before them again. Aileen was still an elderly woman, but Sam’s hair had greyed too. His back had bowed, and his forehead had wrinkled. He smiled at Aileen kindly, in a way that reminded Dean of the late Henry Winchester. _

 

_ “ _ You don’t have to be alone, _ ” Sam repeated to her. “ _ I could stay with you. If you wanted. _ ” _

 

_ Aileen stared him down, wary as ever. Sam waited for her to make her decision: a real world in which she must face the potential of human connection and all the opportunities to be badly hurt that came with it, or this lonely dreamland in which she marched on self sufficient to a lonely death with no one to call friend or family. _

 

_ Aileen took a deep breath, her face relaxing slightly. She took Sam’s hand. _

 

***

 

Dean woke to Samhain’s hunt bearing fiercely down upon them. Cas stood beside him, no longer tethered to Dean. No longer within him. Cas joined the fighting without thought, ruthlessly beating back the living corpses that pushed against the boundaries of their wardings, sword swinging with practiced grace and efficiency.

 

Sam and Aileen too were quick to their feet. They took stock of the situation and fought side by side, with a familiarity and trust that reassured Dean that his brother would be well taken care of for the moment. Instead of rushing to defend Sam against the onslaught, Dean looked to the other members of their party.

 

He was horrified to see Alicia had been blinded. Blood ran down her face in tear tracks, as the copper breasted birds continued to peck at her eyes. She fought them blindly, too harried to even cry out in pain. Dean ran to her, and killed the birds attacking her with a swipe of the knife he kept hidden on his person. He pulled her back within the warding, sitting her gently on the ground. With no survival instinct to keep her quiet, Alicia began to cry out in pain. Dean could not blame her.

 

“I can’t see,” she sobbed miserably, fighting against him. He hushed her, holding her back from standing and running outside the boundaries of protection again. “Oh gods, I can’t see.”

 

Dean’s heart ached for the girl. Perhaps Rowena would be able to do something for her. Max had yet to notice his twin’s affliction. Dean saw now his hand was joined with Rowena, and the both of them were chanting in unison outside the circle. Alicia had been standing near them when she had been attacked. Perhaps she too had been part of the spell casting.

 

Unlike Alicia, nothing came close to Rowena and Max. Their eyes shone purple, and from them spread an unnatural blaze of fire that roared through the hunt, and burnt the living dead with a grotesque effectiveness. And yet their numbers did not seem to decrease.

 

Another scream tore through Dean’s concentration, as he saw Jo being dragged from the circle by a shadow in the shape of a dog. It had bitten into the meat of her calf, and Jo scrabbled at the sand within the circle, trying to save herself as another hell beast bit into her thigh. Dean shot the both of the beasts, little effect though it had. He took hold of Jo’s upper arms and dragged her within the circle. The beasts were forced to release her once her body was dragged within the warding, though blood sprayed up from where there vicious jaws had held her. There was a paleness to Jo that Dean did not like the look of. But her blood in the sand gave power to the sigils that had been drawn, protecting her even as the loss of it was killing her.

 

Garth and Benny were also injured, barely able to beat back the dead men encroaching on their patch of sand. Sam and Aileen were still fighting strong, though Dean did not like the look of a few near misses. Charlie had yet to be injured, though she was driven to distraction looking back towards Jo with increasing worry in her expression. Her excellent sword technique grew clumsy, and Dean rushed to fight at her side to stop her from getting herself similarly injured.

 

“We need to retreat,” Charlie yelled to him, as he fought off the hulking remains of a man who must have measured nearly seven feet in life. Dean grunted as his cutlass cut into the man’s body again and again, while Charlie held off the surrounding corpses.

 

“Castiel won’t leave without the loot,” Dean said, knowing it was true. If it wasn’t, Cas would have dragged their sleeping bodies close to the boats and had them row back to the ship once most of them had woken. Since he had chosen to stand his ground, Dean knew Cas meant to leave with what he had come for.

 

“Jo is dying,” Charlie said, her voice raw with distress. Dean did not know how to answer her. He was not the captain, and he did not even know if they would make it through the next few minutes still alive. “Dean, please tell him-”

 

Charlie failed to finish her request before a pulse of energy shot from the edges of the circle. It incinerated any creature within a hundred yards of their warding, leaving a charred circle of ash around them. Dean looked back to Max and Rowena, who now had Cas beside them. His eyes glowed a silver blue, the same silver blue the runes on Dean’s body pulsed sometimes. Castiel truly was otherworldly, Dean thought to himself. Distantly, he found that he did not mind.

 

Whatever spell Rowena, Castiel, and Max had done had had the desired effect, and given them breathing room from the dead men. There was only one problem. Whatever power the three had used to dispel the demons and the Cu Sidhe had also depowered the wardings. Dean looked to Castiel.

 

“Run to the ship,” the captain shouted. Most of their party did so, though Charlie and Dean had to carry Jo between them, and Cas himself lifted Alicia in his arms as though she weighed nothing. Rowena ran behind the rest of them, burning the land behind her with purple fire that kept the dead at bay, even as they closed in behind them.

 

At last their party made it to the shipwreck, and Cas cut his arm and drew a symbol upon it. Dean could feel the immense potency of it, and breathed a sigh of relief that for the moment they were safe.

 

The relief was short lived. Jo collapsed on the deck of the shipwreck just as Rowena climbed over the railing, narrowly avoiding the Cu Sidhe that sniped at her ankles with their fearsome fangs. Dean and Charlie looked at Rowena helplessly. The witch looked to the captain, who nodded.

 

Rowena went to work on Jo’s body, attempting to heal her. Cas took stock of the others, glad to see no other injury was life threatening. Max nearly hit him when Cas told him that they needed to save their energy for a return trip to their boats rather than saving Alicia’s eyes.

 

“I have energy enough,” Rowena insisted, over Cas’ objections. But it was complicated, and the process took much of Rowena’s concentration and power. As soon as Alicia’s eyes were healed, the witch passed out in exhaustion. Dean knew it could be hours before she was properly restored, or even lucid.

 

“Let her sleep,” Cas said when the others rushed to her side. “The rest of yas can salvage what we can of the loot. Don’t take more than you can run with, but take as much as you can manage.”

 

Charlie laughed in his face.

 

“All this?” she said to him. “For some two bit pirate who got caught and should’ve been hanged a damn long time ago! You don’t even love him no more, you just feel guilty because you got away and ‘e didn’t.”

 

“Charlie-”

 

“Jo almost died,” Charlie said, spitting at his feet. Cas said nothing, which only infuriated her more. “Tell me you have a plan to get us out of here.”

 

“I do,” said Cas. His voice was so serious, it broke Charlie from her rage. She went white and shook her head. She reached for the captain, but he stepped back from her. Dean felt something break loose inside him, because he too knew what Cas meant. The captain looked to each of his crew, along with Dean, Sam, and Aileen. “Please go fetch what he needs, and-”

 

Castiel’s voice shook, his bravery failing him for a moment. He collected himself and continued, once again stoic as ever.

 

“We need to leave before she wakes up,” Castiel said, nodding towards Rowena. “She’ll try to do what needs to be done, but she’s spent for the moment. She’d only hurt herself.”

 

Cas’ crew exchanged looks, and then hopped to at their captain’s command. There was nothing else to be done, as Cas had all but said he was the key to their safe passage back to the ship before they were overwhelmed by the army of dead already attempting to demolish their sanctuary. Even Aileen and Sam ran off to seek out what they could salvage from the wreck.

 

Dean did no such thing.

 

“If you think I’m going to let you-”

 

“Let me?” Cas asked, smiling bitterly. “You vastly underestimate your power over me.”

 

“Do I?” asked Dean, feeling the runes on his arm glow with untapped potential. It crackled within him, charged with anger and desperation. He felt suddenly he might be able to overpower Castiel in this moment. Make him listen.

 

Only those feelings weren’t entirely his own, and he didn’t trust them.

 

So instead he threatened.

 

“My life tied to yours. I meant that. I will go with you.”

 

Cas’ expression softened, and Dean thought for a moment he’d broken through to him. There had to be another way out of this than for Castiel to sacrifice himself in whatever manner he was planning. Cas reached out a hand, lightly touching it to Dean’s cheek.

 

“I know,” he said. Dean felt paralysis run through him. He fell to the floor in a heap, still conscious but unable to move. “The spell will wear off soon. And you’ll run with the others to the boat. I’ll try to run after. But…”

 

Dean snarled, helpless to speak his mind. He knew this was the point. Cas would keep him immobile until it was time to escape, and trust that Dean loved his own life well enough to run when he needed to. Maybe Cas even did think to survive himself, but it struck Dean as unlikely.

 

“I’m sorry,” said Cas. He took a letter out of his breast pocket and tucked it into Dean’s own pocket. “If I don’t make it… These are my final wishes. Keep them safe for me?”

 

As if Dean had a choice.

 

The crew returned, laden down with treasures. All burdens seemed to leave Cas’ shoulders as he looked at each of them, a silent farewell. Tears rolled down Charlie’s cheeks silently. Cas kissed her forehead, and Charlie choked back a true sob.

 

“You’ll try to make it to the boats,” she asked.

 

Cas nodded, but Charlie seemed all the more defeated for the reassurance. She knew as surely as Dean did that Cas had little hope of joining them.

 

“Benny, you’ll carry Rowena to the boats,” said Cas. He looked to Sam and Aileen. “You remember the promises you made me.”

 

Sam nodded, eyes flicking towards Dean. For the first time in his life, Dean wanted to hit his brother.

 

“Thank you,” Sam said. Castiel did not respond, instead taking a deep breath and turning inwards. His eyes burned silver blue, and he smiled at them all.

 

“You will have a few minutes to escape the shallows,” he said. “Don’t look back, it’ll only slow you down. I’ll swim out if… if I can.”

 

They readied themselves as Castiel jumped over the side of the ship into the thick of Samhain’s hunt. As soon as Castiel’s feet hit the ground, the spell over Dean broke and he was able to run after the others. He was faster than them, but he kept towards the back, fighting off the dead as the quicker corpses attacked his friends.

 

After the first few hundred yards, they were boxed in and up to their ears in the dead. Dean swung his sword wildly, crying out as a dead man took a bite out of his forearm. His companions were similarly overwhelmed. All seemed lost, until Castiel doubled back and parted the dead as if they were as flimsy as rag dolls. It would be now that Castiel truly grew into his power, Dean thought bitterly, realizing that Cas could have avoided all this if only he’d known what he could truly do. No prison could keep a being like him out, and Balthazar would have been long ago rescued.

 

“Close your eyes!” Cas shouted, and the others did so without hesitation. But Dean kept his eyes open, and what he saw astounded him. Light exploded from every part of the captain, incinerating whatever evil it came in contact with. It pulsed through the mob that had overpowered them, again clearing a path to the boats. The others opened their eyes and ran again, sprinting as fast as they could as Castiel trailed behind them, an avenging angel whose hands killed any who dared follow.

 

Still, even a being as powerful as him could not keep back the horde forever. And they kept coming, and their numbers increased steadily as Castiel’s crew made their escape. Even so, these new demons were further off, and the Cu Sidhe were wary of Castiel and whimpered when he looked to them. It was enough to give Dean hope that truly they all might make it.

 

Then he heard the Cu Sidhe run behind after Dean himself. As Benny, Garth, Jo, and Charlie began to untie the boats, Dean felt his torso torn nearly in two from the force of the hellbeast that had bitten into him. He could not even scream, instead choking up blood and bile. He felt as though he were drowning, and coughed. He could not clear his lungs. He had fallen in the sand, and he was going to die…

 

But there was a hand on his chest, and a surge of power that healed the worst of his wounds. Dean stood on unsteady feet, pushed towards the boats by Cas’ strong hands. He was too stricken to resist, numb with horror that he had nearly died and somehow Cas had healed him.

 

He was dragged into one of the boats by Sam and Aileen, and he turned to pull Cas in behind him, only to realize that Samhain’s Hunt had once again overwhelmed them, and were wading into the water after them. Dean’s outstretched hand was yanked by one of these corpses, nearly capsizing his boat until Charlie cut the demon’s hand from its arm. Still it didn’t let go of Dean, to his horror.

 

And worse, Cas had stayed behind at the shore. His eyes no longer glowed blue, and Dean could see that he had exhausted his newfound powers, and was now forced to fight with mortal strength against impossible enemies. Still the captain, did not give up. He fought tooth and nail against the invisible Cu Sidhe as Benny and Charlie rowed further from shore. He tried to retreat towards the water, where he might swim and escape the Hunt. And yet the demons overwhelmed him, cutting into him over and over again. Finally, he lost his footing and fell to his knees, and the finality of it tore a scream from Dean’ throat.

 

He felt like a madman, trying to jump from the boat and swim back towards certain death. Sam stopped him, holding him fast and threatening to knock him out if he tried to jump ship again.

 

Cas was buried beneath the crowd now and ceased fighting. Dean watched as the man’s arm was ripped from his shoulder, and the skin of his face was torn from his head. The Cu Sidhe descended and ate every piece of him alive, until only clean picked bones remained on the blood soaked beach. Dean tried to leap overboard again, the awful skeletal smile of Cas’ skull driving him once again into madness. Sam knocked him out with a pistol, and Dean was forced into unconsciousness, the violent images of Castiel’s last moments lingering nightmare like before darkness took him.

 

***

 

_ An Egyptian man in a suit frowned over a file. His expression betrayed concern, confusion, and not a little sadness. He flicked his file shut as he realized he had company. _

 

_ Dean recognized Gabriel without knowing the face he wore now. His new body was of a portly Englishman shorter than Dean, light haired and blue eyed. The way he carried himself spoke of more strength than his vessel’s body naturally possessed. Dean felt tethered to him as he had felt tethered to Castiel when visiting Charlie, Rowena, and Aileen’s dreams… _

 

_ “It’s a curious case,” said the Egyptian man. _

 

_ “Anubis-” _

 

_ “I don’t decide where they go. I only run the numbers,” Anubis stressed. He relented a little as he saw the grief in Gabriel’s eyes. “But this is a matter without a clear answer.” _

 

_ “What does that mean?” _

 

_ “Belief and sacrifice suggests Heaven. Manner of death means Hell has laid its own claim, and will be hard to dissuade of their right to the… soul? A reaper had to extract your son from one of the Cu Sidhe’s jaws. He is half selkie, which suggests Purgatory. And half angel which suggests…” _

 

_ “The Empty.” _

 

_ “The factions are contentious, and they’ve left the deciding to me,” said Anubis. “The calculations… they could take weeks. Until then he is being stored in a pocket Heaven, separate from the rest. Hell agreed for the time being, having determined that it will be more fun breaking him after he’s known peace-” _

 

_ The ground shakes beneath them. _

 

_ “Again, none of this is my fault.” _

 

_ “There must be something you can do for him.” _

 

_ “It’s for the scales to decide.” _

 

_ Dean felt hopelessness permeate him. And then he felt as Gabriel let him go, severing the connection he had formed between himself and Dean. And that was when Dean knew it was truly over. _

 

_ Castiel was dead. _


	5. Chapter 5

By the time Dean woke up, the island was long gone from view. He knew already if there were any hope of recovering Cas’ body, someone would have insisted on it. Anna, or Hannah, or Charlie. So he knew there was no point in jumping into the ocean and swimming back, but God he wanted to. He lay unmoving on his bed, breathing in and out. He did not have to look to know the marks Gabriel had left on his body were now gone, his skin now clean of heavenly influence.

 

Sam came eventually to sit by his side. Aileen waited outside the room to give them privacy and keep anyone else from bothering Dean.

 

“Anna and Rowena?”

 

“Anna is holding up,” Sam said quietly. “I think she knew this might happen. Monsters- not that Anna is... Well, in any case. Supernatural creatures think of violent death differently than we do. It happens so often, it’s to be endured if you don’t have the resources to fight back and avenged only if you do. As for Rowena… she has taken it harder.”

 

“As she would. She missed his death, and her chance to defend him.”

 

“I don’t think anyone would have been able to stop her from defending him to his last if she’d been awake. Not the way I… the way I stopped you,” Sam finished, looking away from his brother. “I hope you can forgive me.”

 

Dean swallowed whatever lingering anger there was. It wouldn’t bring Cas back. Nothing would. So he nodded at his brother and let that affirmation be enough. It was what he could manage for the moment. Sam continued speaking, a slight weight off his shoulders.

 

“Hannah has taken control of the  _ Grace of God _ and is navigating us back to safer waters. It will not be without treachery, but they are confident they can handle it,” said Sam. “Crowley and Jody have decided they are going to marry as soon as we find land. Rowena’s agreed to stand witness.”

 

“And Charlie?”

 

“Jo’s been consoling her. The Banes are wondering whether to return to their mother or stay on. Some of the other crew has been debating as well. Cas… he seems to have been holding the lot of them together. Especially the young ones without another place to go. There’s a girl Claire who’s been angling on sneaking into your room to wake you up since she heard of Cas’ death. She wants to know how it happened, and how to avenge him, the poor girl.”

 

“She would be, the troublemaker,” Dean said, though his voice was too laden down with suppressed sorrow to sound fond. Sam frowned at him. “I’ll talk to her soon.”

 

Dean flattened his palm on his chest over where Castiel’s last letter rested. He wouldn’t open it yet. He couldn’t.

 

“Ask the captain… Ask Hannah to take us to Balthazar. It’s time he was freed,” said Dean. “And after that, this can all be over.”

 

With a slight nod, Sam got to his feet. The exhaustion of what they had been through unbalanced him a moment, but he righted himself.

 

“I truly am sorry for your loss,” said Sam.

 

He let himself out. Dean went back to staring at the ceiling.

 

Several weeks of hard sailing and harder conversations later, they landed in the port of London. Hannah showed false papers that did little to trick the inspector, but they bribed him smartly to overlook their docking. Afterward, Hannah set about the task of selling the gold they now possessed in exchange for money. More money than Dean had ever seen before. Hannah sheared their hair shorter than usual and bound their chest in order to pass as a man during the negotiations. They were still not treated as well as a light-skinned Englishman would be, but they did not compromise or accept less than what the gold was worth.

 

Dean meanwhile set about learning what he could about Old Bailey, where Balthazar was awaiting his long-postponed execution. Sam too was busy trying to establish contact with their mum, who had been traveling in Wales the last anyone had heard of her. Dean ached to see his mother again, and to be held by her and told everything would be alright. He wanted to press his face into her shoulder and let loose some of his sorrow. He knew if he did, she would sing to him again.

 

But she was not there for the moment, so Dean contented himself with preparing his plan.

 

Crowley put an estimate of a week before he could form a proper impression of which men might be open to exchanging Balthazar’s freedom for money. It was a tricky prospect at this point. He had become rather famous in local circles as the pirate who simply wouldn’t hang, and there was a risk associated with letting him out, even for a high sum. Not only that, but Old Bailey was well guarded and would be hard to sack without losing their own in the process. Dean couldn’t ask Cas’ crew to do that, especially when success was far from guaranteed.

 

It had begun to occur to Dean that the best time to save Balthazar might be directly before his hanging. If they bribed the right people well enough, they could infiltrate the crowd and cause a distraction to mask the mechanism of Balthazar’s escape. It would not be simple, and they would need to pay handsomely. But it seemed their best shot at Balthazar’s recovery.

 

Slowly the pieces fell into place, and before Dean knew it the day of Balthazar’s hanging was upon them. Crowley gave his word, what little that meant, that the appropriate guards had been bribed well enough to let Hannah and Dean spirit Balthazar from the gallows as the children caused a ruckus in the crowd, throwing food at the guards and shouting and mocking. Claire, as it turned out, was especially good at this. She and Kaia were chased about in circles by some of the bystanders, calling back insults as they did so.

 

Sam and Aileen set about starting a fire elsewhere, which fully shifted the attention of the crowd. Hannah and Dean took advantage swiftly as the thunderous clanging of a carriage collapsing in flames drew every eye to the far side of the square. Balthazar had little enough time to recognize they had cut his bonds before they had wrapped him in a cloak and pulled him into the shadows.

 

The pirate laughed delightedly as he realized what had happened.

 

“Cassie came through after all,” he said, the affection in his voice turning Dean’s stomach and rising up something awfully jealous in him. “Where is the man?”

 

“He lost his life in his pursuit of your freedom,” he said harshly. “You might keep quiet so that his sacrifice doesn’t go to waste.”

 

The man looked as though he’d been slapped. His face paled to a dull grey and he looked older. Scraggy and tired and with a sadness about him that made Dean feel guilty for breaking the news to him in such a callous manner. He would not have liked to receive similar news in such a way.

 

“He never stopped trying to rescue you,” Hannah said, their voice conciliatory, even kind. Dean wondered how they did it. He knew Hannah loved Cas even as he did, he could see it in their eyes from the moment he had been brought aboard. And yet Hannah felt no jealousy, nor need to plead their case. How must it feel to have such mastery over their emotions?

 

“He wouldn’t. Stubborn, naive fool,” Balthazar said roughly. He collected himself. “We should walk on. They’ll search the crowd soon enough.”

 

Dean and Hannah spoke their agreement and led Balthazar through the escape they had carefully planned over the preceding week. They knew every side road and alley from the gallows to the harbor, and they made liberal use of them, striding through purposefully and with no attempts at secretiveness. Men trying to hide were always more memorable than men who walked openly and with no attempt not to be seen.

 

They made it back to the  _ Grace of God _ with little enough chase and were about to set sail when Dean spotted Sam running up with Aileen and another woman with grey sprinkled hair and the beginnings of frown lines. It took Dean until she was aboard to realize this woman was his mother, but the moment he saw her face clearly he had no doubt of her identity.

 

“Dean,” she breathed, as though she could not believe her eyes.

 

“Mum,” he said, opening his arms and crushing her into a bruising hug. She was thinner than when he left her, which made him equal parts angry and sad. Angry at himself for not taking his chances to leave sooner, and sad that she had put her life at risk to ensure his safety. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” Mary soothed, but Dean shook his head. He wasn’t going to cry, but he wished he would. He wished he could find some way to push the ugliness he felt inside into the world so it would stop aching in his chest.

 

“I could have come home sooner,” he said. She blinked at him, not comprehending. “I could have escaped.”

 

“Oh, Dean…”

 

“I could have left,” Dean said, and understanding began to dawn in Mary Winchester’s eyes. “Not at first, but I had the chance and I-”

 

Dean could not finish his sentence. He couldn’t bear to add to the disappointment he saw reflected in his mother’s eyes. She didn’t scold him, which he was grateful for. She simply pulled him in for a tighter hold and said she understood. Dean wasn’t even sure if he understood, so he found that unlikely.

 

“My poor boy,” Mary said, letting him go and holding Dean’s face in her palms. “You’ve grown up so much since you’ve been gone.”

 

In more ways than one, Dean thought to himself. He was a killer now, and a pirate. Even with Castiel dead, he knew he couldn’t in good conscience rejoin pleasant society. He couldn’t live on unearned money and read stuffy books shuttered away in a library, even if his father would let him… He still felt a yearning to return home, but where was home now? With his mum and Sam in their London apartment? But surely Sam would want his own space if he and Aileen had any plans to live together, which he suspected they did. And Mary and Sam were like to travel, being in the business of hunting monsters and saving lives.

 

Dean supposed he could join them. He did like the idea of it, a family business of sorts.

 

But perhaps he’d been too long at sea because there was something about being once more aboard the  _ Grace of God _ that felt as close to home as he knew now.

 

They sailed to an estate John Winchester kept in the County of York, a house he was not currently visiting, and where Mary still held undue sway. She was a charismatic woman, and the servants there were keen to win her approval, a skill Dean knew he also possessed from the many times he had won information from sailors with nothing but a smidge of wit and a dash of charm. Mary had an effortless aura of power about her that made even the most outlandish request seem reasonable. Still, how Mary managed to convince them to keep quiet the arrival of forty men and women as her guests was a secret to which Dean did not know the answer. Perhaps John tolerated the exploits of his first wife more than he let on in polite company.

 

It was decided that Crowley and Jody would be having their marriage at the estate, and Sam, who had some religious learning despite his age, would coach Hannah to act as officiant given her role as captain (unrecognized by British legal authorities though they were). Rowena surprised Crowley terrifically when she agreed to participate in the wedding, namely to give “Fergus” away. It was almost tender, though neither mother nor son betrayed much emotion at the event itself. If it were not for the softness in Crowley’s eyes when he looked on Jody, Dean would not think the man cared about being married at all.

 

Conversely, Jody bore the ceremony well enough but was clearly happy to have it over with and to be with the man she loved without any judgments of impropriety from sailors. It was an idea foreign to Dean, who had long since decided there was no use in thinking on the behavior of gossips. Jody was marrying for love, and it was clear as she and Crowley danced together that she had truly found it.

 

Dean was altogether less cheerful. He did laugh a storm when Jody threw her bouquet straight into the hands of his younger brother and had teased Sam mercilessly that Aileen would have to make an honest woman of him now. Sam took the teasing with more grace than usual and had gotten back at Dean only by dancing with Aileen the entire night instead of keeping his brother company.

 

Claire, Kaia, Jack, Alfie, and the other children stopped by to speak with him every once in a while. Cas had always had a soft spot for the children, and they missed him fiercely. Dean knew he was not an adequate substitute, but he tried to smile when they spoke to him. Alex, at least, had taken up confiding in Jody, which relieved a fraction of the strain Dean felt in keeping up on her morale. Jody had even asked Alex to hold onto her ring until the ceremony.

 

Dean watched the children now, each coming to life now that the wedding had given them a moment to breathe. Kaia and Claire danced together, giggling as they both tried to lead and ended up stepping on each other’s toes. Dean supposed they would nearly be grown women soon, and their mischiefs would grow more serious. The two girls were the best of friends, but there were the beginnings of something more intimate in the way they looked at each other.

 

Jack, Alfie, and Krissy, on the other hand, seemed impervious to such things. Krissy covered her pain by bossing the boys around. Seeming not to know whether or not they should let her be in charge, Jack and Alfie simply did as she said. Dean supposed it was good Krissy was too busy having adventures and causing trouble to wallow as Dean was.

 

The night passed slowly, and by dawn, the pirates began to wear out and retire to bed to lie in for the morning. Dean watched as the sun came up, and it occurred to him, as it sometimes did, that Cas would never get to see the sun again.

 

Cas’ final wishes burned in his front pocket. He’d yet to open them. He’d yet to even tell Balthazar they existed. He knew he should remedy that, but nothing in the week Dean had known him had recommended Balthazar’s company. He was frequently drunk, which Dean knew was a criticism he himself wasn’t immune from, but Balthazar was a rather more belligerent drunk than Dean was. Balthazar also brought Castiel up often, partly mourning and partly just trying to make sense of his five years of imprisonment.

 

Dean felt sorry for him, but he preferred not to hear it. In his perfect world, Balthazar was never imprisoned, nor had he even met Cas in the first place. However, since Dean did live in a world in which Cas had chosen Balthazar to love, it would be unfair not to honor a dead man’s last wishes.

 

So after sleeping much of the day, Dean called together Hannah, Charlie, Rowena, Anna, the children, and Balthazar. He didn’t doubt Castiel mentioned other members of his crew in his final wishes, but it was these people he thought were most likely to need to be present, and the others would not be offended should they be informed later.

 

Dean had also asked Sam and his mum to be present, more for his comfort than any functional use. He thought it would also encourage him to school his emotions and not dwell on how Cas had taken the choice to die with him from Dean’s hands. Dean did not want to die, and he couldn’t be truly ungrateful that he was still alive, but if he had to die he couldn’t think of a better way to do so than defending a- a friend. Defending a friend.

 

Dean cleared his throat to get the gathering’s attention and laid out the circumstances quickly. Then, he took out Castiel’s last wishes and in a show of good faith he had trouble genuinely offering, Dean gave the creased paper to Balthazar to read, assuming Cas would want it that way. Balthazar looked so grateful Dean wanted to sob, but he held his tongue and let the other man speak as Castiel’s spouse and the reason the man’s life had come to such an end.

 

“ _ If you are reading this… it is because I am dead _ ,” said Balthazar. He chuckled darkly but was unable to keep a sad fondness out of his voice. “Always blunt, our Cassie.  _ My first order of business is the passing on of my ship. Should they live, Hannah Johnson is to take over as captain and gain full ownership of the Grace of God. Should they not, this right is passed to Celeste Middleton (known as Charlie) first, and should she also have perished, it shall go to Benny LaFitte. After this, the highest-ranking member of the crew who wants it. My clothing I leave for whatever man fits them. The majority of my books and maps I leave to Claire Novak, Kristen Chambers, Kaia Nieves, Jack Kline, Alfred Smith, and Alex Jones. They are to be taught to the best of the crew’s ability and become as learned as is suitable to their interests and curiosities. To my mother, I leave my body should it be recovered so my bones may rest in a sylkie’s grave and feed the ocean we both love. I also leave her anything of my father’s she wishes to claim. To Charlie, I leave my weapons. Take care, little one.” _

 

Charlie let out a small sound of pain, and Balthazar paused in his reading to let her compose herself. She did so quickly, reaching out to Dean who took her hand and held it a moment. She nodded to him, and he released her.

 

Dean saw Anna watch the two of them, and then go back to staring into the distance. She looked restless, as she always did on land. Sad too, of course, but Dean knew her mind was on other things than her son, whose bones she could not take to their final resting place. Nor did Dean suspect she wanted any reminders of her grief in the form of Gabriel’s small gifts to his son. There was nothing for her here, and it was clear she longed to return to the water.

 

Anna seemed to sense Dean’s thoughts, and turned to look at him again as Balthazar returned to his reading.

 

“ _ To Rowena, any object of magical value in my possession not promised to a buyer and my deepest thanks for housing me when I had nowhere else to go, _ ” said Balthazar. Rowena betrayed no emotion, only looking thoughtful and sly in a way that Dean might have been concerned with if he had the ability left to him. “ _ If there is a way to reach him, to Balthazar I leave anything that remains of my earthly possessions that he wishes to have, and any money that can be spared for him from our final haul. Save him if you can, though he will live in any case. Tell him the long life I was meant to live has been passed on to him. Tell him I loved him very much, and I wish him every happiness. And to you, Dean- _ ”

 

Balthazar stopped reading. Dean had looked up eagerly, not hoping for much. He had suspected Cas might mention him, however briefly, but did not truly believe there would be much to it. An acknowledgment. Something small that he would give to Dean to remember him by.

 

However, the way Balthazar looked at him made Dean’s shoulders tense. It was as if Balthazar wished every evil in the world to descend on Dean at once, though his glare quickly fell away to nothing.

 

“Have you read this?” he asked. Dean shook his head slowly, waiting for Balthazar to go on. He did not. Instead he thrust the page of writing back into Dean’s hands and stormed off, letting gravity bend down his shoulders slightly even as he let out an angry barrage of what Dean assumed to be curse words in rapid French. For a long moment, Dean did not have the courage to read the final bit of writing at the bottom. There was not much of it, but there was enough to tear open the wounds in Dean’s heart that he had been so carefully tending.

 

“ _ To Dean, _ ” Dean began, feeling his throat start to tighten. “ _ As ever, I have nothing useful to give you. But if you are reading this, and I hope you are, I want to leave you with the truth of the matter _ .”

 

Dean found he could not read the last two sentences out loud.

 

“That son of a  _ bitch _ ,” he said vehemently, instead.

 

Dean left much in the manner Balthazar had: without regard for his audience and in a much worse state than when he had arrived. He left the paper behind him though, and he was not even out of the room before he saw Charlie snatch up Castiel’s makeshift will and testament from where it lay unceremoniously abandoned.

 

He fled before anyone could mention out loud what it said.

 

_ Dean, I am sorry. The truth is I love you with all my heart. _

 

It would have been one thing if Cas had simply failed to mention him in his final wishes. It would have stung, Dean knew. But it would be an ache that would pass, one he could move on from. What was he meant to do with the knowledge that he had had everything he wanted all along, and Cas had been too much of a coward to say it?

 

_ No, not a coward _ , Dean corrected himself, because he felt rotten just thinking it. He knew what logic Castiel had used in determining when he should come forward with his feelings, and it was not a matter of being afraid. It was a matter of keeping his vows, and infidelity aside he stood steadfast with Balthazar in life. Until death do us part, as the vow goes.

 

Castiel was dead. It was one way to end a marriage.

 

Dean wanted to hit something.

 

Instead, he found a tree he had been fond of climbing in his boyhood and settled into a familiar spot, high off the ground. He closed his eyes and breathed and listened to the just audible swell of the ocean in the distance as it faded in and out with the sound of the wind. It calmed him somewhat, even if it did not make him feel better.

 

Mary found him, of course. She didn’t ask him to come down. She simply tied up her skirt and clambered up after him, surprisingly spry for a woman just shy of middle age. She sat on a branch on the opposite side of the tree’s trunk, and did not speak to him for several minutes. Together they took in the darkening skies and the fading bird song.

 

Then she broke the silence.

 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said. Dean didn’t answer. “Sam told me. What he meant to you.”

 

“You don’t approve?” Dean asked, dreading the answer.

 

“Who gives a rat’s ass?” asked Mary, somehow managing to make it sound prim. Dean stared at her. “I bargained with demons. If there’s anyone of us who has sinned… It was me.”

 

“And Sam will pay for it,” Dean finished for her. Mary looked away from him. “He told you that too.”

 

“Yes,” she said. They were quiet again for a time. “Love is a terrible force of nature. I don’t blame you for not being able to come home, Dean. For whatever reason. I left my parents for a man I loved. I made many sacrifices to make that happen. I shouldn’t have, but I did. And even since I’ve reaped the consequences of those bad decisions… I can’t bring myself to regret them. At least, not most of them.”

 

“You don’t regret John?” Dean asked. Mary narrowed her eyes at him.

 

“He’s still your father.”

 

“I know,” said Dean. “Maybe that will matter again at some point. But not now.”

 

Mary’s mouth twisted in a disagreement she did not voice. Instead, she reached out and took her son’s hand. She tightened her grip briefly, a reassurance that warmed Dean. He didn’t thank her, but he nodded in her direction and she seemed to take the meaning. They had always been close, the two of them. Or perhaps that was not the correct way to describe it. They had always understood each other.

 

“What are you going to do?” Mary asked him.

 

In the distance, a wave crashed against the beach. To his surprise, Dean found he had an answer.

 

“I’m going to bring him back.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while, but I really am almost done with the story now. It was longer than I thought it was going to be, and I am still editing the last two chapters, but the story is finished now! The rest should be up within two weeks.
> 
> If you enjoy this story, please let me know!
> 
> Stay safe, stay healthy, and stay home <3


	6. Chapter 6

Before setting about a journey to the Underworld, or Heaven, or wherever it was the Castiel was being kept from him, Dean determined he should give the crewmembers of the  _ Grace of God _ the opportunity to jump ship. He had no doubt some members of the crew would accompany him, danger be damned, and he had but to ask Hannah before they agreed quietly and said no more on the matter. Hannah, being the new captain of the  _ Grace of God _ , had final say on where the ship went. Anyone who did not want to undergo such a fraught mission would be left with Victor, as would the children.

 

Claire had not liked this.

 

“I’m nearly sixteen,” she had hissed at Dean when she found out she would be among the crew members left on Victor’s  _ Justice _ . “I have every right to go if I please. If I were a boy-”

 

“Alfie and Jack won’t be joining us either.”

 

“Jack plans to stow away,” said Claire sullenly. “And you’ll let him, too.”

 

“No, we won’t,” said Dean, though he was hard pressed to find a way that they could stop him. Jack was good at picking unlikely hiding places when he wished. “You’re not allowed and that’s final. We are going to the land of the dead, Claire. If we fail, we may forfeit our lives.”

 

“And I could fall off the side of  _ Justice _ and the same damn thing would happen,” said Claire fiercely. “I know the risks, and nothing is safe. I’m not a child!”

 

“Claire, when you no longer have to say that is when you won’t be a child,” muttered Dean, earning himself a glare of unparalleled fury. “And what is Kaia to do without you in the time we’re gone?”

 

Claire faltered at this reasoning as Dean knew she would. Kaia, though quickly developing skill with a weapon, could be a fragile girl at times. She had trouble sleeping, and frequent nightmares that only Claire seemed able to soothe. Furthermore, though Kaia had liked Cas, of course, something told Dean she had not liked him enough to risk her life saving him. Just as he expected, it was with this argument that he won Claire over to his side of thinking.

 

Jack was another matter. He only agreed with Dean when he was informed he was not to come. And then on the day they were meant to give Victor those crew members who had wisely chosen not to defy death and god, Jack was nowhere to be found. Claire exchanged a look with Dean that conveyed only that she had warned him. Unfortunately, after hours of searching they had still failed to find the boy, and needed to set sail if they were to reach an isle Victor recommended to them by nightfall. There were wise women there that he swore would guide them through their quest if their intentions rang true.

 

Victor had also pulled Dean aside to say his condolences. It was a bittersweet moment between them, as it had been a long time since Dean had seen Victor, but it was also the worst of circumstances to rekindle a friendship under. It had been a short conversation in which they both wished the other the best.

 

They set out to sea with a much smaller crew. Rowena accompanied them, though Anna had disappeared out to sea, wanting little to do with heaven after what Gabriel had allowed to happen to her son. She did not believe she could save him and she didn’t wish to sadden herself by trying. Balthazar was on board, though Dean avoided him with extreme prejudice. Mary, Sam, and Aileen were as well, and Sam and Aileen had taken to exchanging shy looks that Dean was certain would at some point lead to an undertaking of a more physical nature between the two. It had been with extreme grace that Crowley had released Aileen from his service, much to Dean’s surprise. He’d also allowed Jody to take in Alex as her own, as the two had formed a surprisingly strong bond over the course of the weeks they’d known each other. Jody treated her as a daughter so quickly and with such fervor, Dean wondered if she had been a mother before. That Crowley accepted this was another unexpected commendation of his character. Perhaps marriage really could change a man.

 

Meanwhile, Charlie had firmly pledged herself to being part of the expedition, and Jo had decided to join and stay with the woman she loved, even if she thought the exercise of saving Castiel from death itself to be a pointless exercise in futility. Garth, Benny, and the Banes twins had decided to come, though Max had grumbled at Alicia’s determination to do so. He still had not forgiven Cas for nearly sacrificing Alicia’s eyes to aid their escape from Samhain’s hunt. Besides them, there were others who too decided to band around Cas. Still it was a skeleton crew compared to what it had been before, and Dean knew they would be hard pressed to sail the ship home if they lost too many on the journey.

 

Jack appeared again a few hours after they had set sail for the isle. He nodded in Dean’s direction stiffly, then went to assist Garth with the rigging. Despite his annoyance, Dean found he didn’t have the energy to reprimand the boy. They could always abandon him on the isle. And if he hid away again, well… Jack was nearly a man. There was only so much Dean could do to stop him. It was a miracle he’d been able to deter Claire.

 

Even decided in this, Dean had the hollow feeling that he had chosen his favorite between the two of them the same way Cas had always treated Jack with a softness he seemed unable to extend to Claire. Except in this case the circumstances were much more dire. Claire was safe and Jack was not, and what did that say about Dean’s priorities?

 

Dean banished the thought.

 

Hannah promised him that they would be anchoring the ship off the isle by nightfall. Dean whiled away the hours in the meantime with Sam and Aileen, who taught him some of the signs Aileen used. Dean was a quick study and was having a rudimentary conversation with both of them by the time the anchor dropped. Aileen felt the vibrations of the chain being lowered and looked at Sam, signing something unfamiliar to Dean. Luckily, she spoke out loud as well.

 

“We’re here?”

 

Dean made the sign for “yes,” and leapt to his feet. Now that it was happening, truly happening, he found a hidden fire within him had been lit. He knew what he needed to do, and he knew how he needed to do it. Charlie had reconstructed Castiel’s map to the afterlife, and they had but to follow it to find him. It would not be easy, but it was possible. And Dean had nothing if not the will to make it so.

 

That same fire led him to the wise women Victor had told him of, and it sustained him even as they told him what he must do.

 

***

 

_ Dean was alone. _

 

_ He had been thrown from the ship as they approached the blank blackness of the tear. Hannah had been racing the ship towards it as it began to knit itself together under their observation. They were not meant to make it through, but as they sailed the weather had taken a sudden turn for the worse, the sea rebelling against their very presence in this space between their world and the next. _

 

_ Dean grasped for the rigging in his attempt to see where he might best pass through the rift. He slipped, hitting his head against the taffrail before being violently thrown from the ship. No one shouted after him, and Dean realized as the sea’s surface plummeted towards him that no one had seen him fall. _

 

_ He hit the water hard, a startled scream of pain taking whatever breath he might have hoped to hold. There was a blackness at the edges of his vision, and it wouldn’t be long before it overtook him. Still, he had been thrown towards the tear, which was now small enough that he had precious little time to swim through. Somehow Dean knew his only hope for survival was to escape into that other world before he lost consciousness and drowned. So he forced his arms to pull and his legs to kick, and he dragged himself onto the black sandy shores of Death’s domain just as the tear closed behind him. _

 

_ Dean could not lift his head to take in his surroundings. Exhaustion and a splitting pain in his head overtook him, and he fell unconscious at Death’s door. _

 

***

 

The women’s names were Patience, Contessa, and Mosely.

 

Patience looked to be a little older than Claire, and was garbed in bright yellow. There was a nervous intelligence to her that reminded Dean of Sam. She was the one who knew Dean was coming. It was not yet set in stone how his journey would end, but soon she would know that too. She knew how many eggs would hatch in the spring and which years would yield poor gains and what troubles would be brought before her. It had wizened her, despite her young age, and there was a hint of grey to her hair that Dean found troubling.

 

Mosely was Patience’s grandmother, and a mind reader. She was a round faced women with kind eyes and a stern mouth. The moment she laid eyes on Dean, her lips puckered sternly and she told him off for looking about for a tree to relieve himself behind after the meeting was over. Dean, not the least bit humbled, had argued back and forth for a moment with her before remembering the severity of what he was about to ask them. Once she caught sight of the pain within him, Mosely softened to him, if only a fraction.

 

Contessa was pale faced, with dark hair and dark clothing. She spoke rarely, but looked at Dean as though she wasn’t certain she liked the look of him. Despite this, she spoke to him gently and politely, as one might to an injured animal. Dean found himself soothed, despite willing himself to remain agitated. He knew immediately if she could talk him out of his quest, she would.

 

So Dean, who had asked to meet with the women alone, told them his plan to rescue Cas and asked for their guidance.

 

“There are so many ways this could go wrong,” Patience replied immediately, her eyes scanning back and forth through a wide variety of futures. “So, so many ways…”

 

Contessa leaned forward and searched Dean’s eyes as Patience continued flashing through a variety of futures, nervously chattering about the odds of his impending death. The woman didn’t seem to like what she saw any more than Patience did.

 

“Death doesn’t give people back,” she said. “And she’s heard more than a few sob stories in her day. What makes you different?”

 

“Wrong question,” said Dean. “You should be asking what makes him different.”

 

Contessa blinked, taken off guard for a moment. She shrugged, content to let her silence drag on so Dean might feel compelled to explain himself. Dean kept his eyes fixed on her, even as Mosely spoke, breaking the tension.

 

“It’s harder than you think,” she said to him. “Bending the world to what you want. And honey, you aren’t half so strong as you need to be. But hope can do a lot. You think you can hold on to that?”

 

“There’s Hell and Heaven and Purgatory all pressed together this close,” said Patience, holding her first finger and thumb only just apart. “And that’s where Castiel is. In the intersection. In the crossroads.”

 

“He can walk out though,” said Mosely. “With the right motivation, he could get back to where he came from. The question is whether or not you can come back with him.”

 

“You’re only a man,” said Contessa. “You’re only human.”

 

“That will have to be enough,” said Dean. “Tell me what I need to do.”

 

The three women exchanged glances, silently conferring with each other. Dean waited, hoping against all the gods themselves that they would show him the way. Because a world without Cas in it would never be right. Because Dean was going to throw himself into the space between worlds anyhow, and it would be ideal if he had a solid way of finding what he was looking for and returning intact.

 

“You have to set out alone. Become Death’s supplicant. Beg for an audience with her, even if it takes until your flesh melts from your bones and your eyes rot out of their sockets and almost none of you remains. It could be a second, it could be a century, but wait for her consideration,” said Patience.

 

“Bring a gift,” said Contessa. “Something you can give her in return for the favor. Think carefully on what Death might want.”

 

“Remember you’ve got more than one life to save, Dean Winchester,” said Mosely gravely.

 

***

 

_ Dean began to wake after a series of sharp prods to his side. He reached out wildly, looking above him and finding a dark skinned woman in long black robes holding a scythe. She looked down upon him like a philosopher might study a particularly uncomely insect. As if he were fascinating and revolting in equal measure. _

 

_ “Dean Winchester,” she said slowly, as if she were attempting to recall his name. “It’s not your time yet.” _

 

_ By degrees, it came back to Dean where he was and what he was supposed to do. And then, with dawning horror, it occurred to him who he was speaking to. His jaw fell open and for a moment his wits were not about him in the least. And then he rallied himself. If one were to attempt to bargain with Death, Dean reasoned, he’d better well have his mind in order first. _

 

_ “I’m not dead. Just visiting.” _

 

_ “This isn’t the sort of joint you visit,” said Death. As she spoke, a small store room came into being around them with a variety of strange objects upon each shelf. Behind her was a door leading to a library. Dean’s hands reached for the book he had meant to give Death, and was shocked to find it still about his person. After his fall, he’d assumed it had been lost to the ocean. He checked too that the leather pouch he had been wearing about his neck was still there. He was glad to feel it next to the necklace Sam had gifted him long ago. So far as he knew, everything was going according to plan. Dean moved his hand from the leather pouch and instead drew out the book he meant to present to Death. _

 

_ “I brought you a gift.” _

 

_ Dean pulled out the book of maps Gabriel had written for his son, the Enochian glyphs glinting in the low light that pervaded the Veil. Anna had happily given it to him before he had even explained what he wished to do with it. It was the only thing Dean thought approached a value worthy of Death herself. What would a primordial force want with money? What did Dean really have to give her? But the book was written by one of Heaven’s most powerful angels. That had to mean something. Death’s hands reached out to stroke the elegant writing. The skeletal shape of her fingers held Dean’s attention, and he almost missed what she said next. _

 

_ “It’s not worthless,” she said after a moment. “It might even be enough to buy your way out. By which I mean, in the name of a greater balance and since it isn’t your time yet… I may be able to overlook this stunt. Alright. The book for your life, Dean Winchester.” _

 

_ “I’m not here to bargain for my life,” Dean told her quietly. She lifted on eyebrow at him, and Dean sensed for a moment her immensity in comparison to him. The suddenness of knowing how very small he was to her, to the greater existence he lived in was almost enough to overwhelm him. Almost. “I’ve got more important lives to save than my own. I want to trade this book for the way forward, into Heaven and Hell.” _

 

_ “Who are you here for?” asked Death. She already sounded bored. As if Dean were a passing curiosity that had already lost its shine. There was nothing Dean could think of to do to convince her otherwise. And so he told her the truth, whatever good that would do. _

 

_ “I’m looking for a man who is half-angel, half-selkie,” said Dean. _

 

_ “That isn’t a man,” Death said. Dean pressed on unfazed. _

 

_ “He’s a little shorter than I am. Dark hair, blue eyes. He’s gifted with a sword,” said Dean. Death sighed and waved away further description. _

 

_ “I know who you’re looking for,” she said at last. “And he’s got the power to walk back into the world of the living on his own. But he has to pay his own price for that. Nothing you can say or do will change that.” _

 

_ “I can ask him to pay it.” _

 

_ Death sighed and swung her scythe against the wall of her library. It stuck fast, and slowly she pulled it down, dragging a line of light behind the blade. A small fissure in the wall formed and widened, revealing a long gravel pathway through a surrounding void of nothingness. Dean swallowed sharply at the steep drop off on either side of the path. He didn’t need to ask to know that he would be dead if he failed to keep to it. _

 

_ “And as for the deal you mean to break,” she said to him before he passed through the door. “Hell collects one way or another. Down there? The house always wins.” _

 

_ “I’ve gambled my way out of more than my fair share of trouble,” said Dean, forcing an undaunted upturning of his lips that he hesitated to call a smile. “I’ll be seeing you again, I reckon. However this goes.” _

 

_ “Everyone does,” she said, the smallest trace of humor gleaming beneath the deadly surface of her serenity. “Dean Winchester. I’ll have to look you up in my library. See what death might be in store.” _

 

_ Dean did not wait for her to do so. Instead he slipped through the door she had cut for him and watched as it closed as soon as he stepped through. _

 

_ Before him the miles stretched across the void. Dean began walking. _

 

***

 

“You’re sure about this, Dean?” Sam asked him.

 

They were docking in Clew Bay once more. The dead lay beyond the end of the world, and they had almost reached that in Cas’ desperation to seek the shipwreck that had won Balthazar his freedom. Dean had been frightened then, that Cas would go further. That Balthazar was dead and Cas knew, and he wanted to bring him back.

 

Dean was a hypocrite, he supposed. He couldn’t muster much shame for it though.

 

“Yes,” he said. Sam stared him down, filling the silence with an expectant impatience. “You don’t have to come. I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”

 

“I know,” Sam said. But he didn’t let it go at that. “I’ve lost someone I loved before Dean. But you’re trying to defy nature. It’s going to get you killed.”

 

“What do I care for what’s natural, Sam?” Dean asked. Sam could not meet his eye after that. He had long since apologized for reacting so strongly against Dean’s affections for Cas, but Dean had not forgotten Sam’s initial disgust. Sam knew that. “And it’s not the same-”

 

“It is the same,” said Sam, quietly. “I met a girl named Jess three years ago, and I decided I wanted to marry her. Mum let us say our vows when we were sixteen. We loved each other. And then she died. She just died and I’ll never know why. She wasn’t sick, yet somehow her heart gave out. And knowing the things I know, you think it didn’t occur to me that some creature followed me home and took her from me?”

 

“Cas never got a chance to live,” said Dean. “He spent his whole life running away from people who wanted to kill him, and then he died.”

 

“Sometimes that happens! Sometimes life isn’t fair or just or right, and the answer to that isn’t turning against God and trying to upend life and death.”

 

“And why would I care about God? I didn’t even care about him before all of this. It was just another story mum told us to make sense of the world that wasn’t really true.”

 

“Everything else was true!”

 

“Which would make God just another one of her monsters, wouldn’t it?” shouted Dean, causing his brother to let out an aggrieved snort. “Cas was the son of an angel. If there’s anyone the rules shouldn’t apply to, it's him. If there’s anyone who should have gotten a fair hand in life…”

 

Dean trailed off as he noticed a figure standing in the doorway. Sam turned to look over his shoulder and saw the man standing there too. Balthazar’s face was a sickly green, but he only raised an eyebrow when the both of them looked at him.

 

“The son of an angel?” he said quietly. He let out a mocking laugh, one that was painfully dry. “That would explain a few things, wouldn’t it?”

 

Dean swallowed, trying not to wallow in uncertainty. He’d known this conversation was coming, and sooner rather than later.

 

“Sam, go find something useful to do,” he said to his brother. Sam scowled at him, but made himself scarce quickly enough. It was one thing to try to check your brother’s more destructive impulses, Dean supposed. It was another to listen to a lover’s quarrel that confused and upset you. He was only grateful Sam had listened to him and disappeared quickly. Dean would be lucky if this conversation with Balthazar didn’t come to blows before it was done.

 

Perhaps Balthazar deserved a smidgeon of comeuppance against him, if Dean were being honest with himself. Dean had pursued the man Balthazar had loved, and won, however hollow that victory proved to be.

 

“You didn’t know?” Dean asked quietly. Balthazar walked in and sank into a chair, as if nothing in the world could hold him up anymore.

 

“I knew about his mother,” said Balthazar. “The things you see out on the water… it wasn’t hard to believe Cassie was half of the ocean. He was always an odd duck.”

 

“Unlike anyone else,” Dean agreed. Balthazar met his eyes.

 

“I don’t like you very much,” he said bluntly. Dean waited for him to go on. “I think I might even hate you.”

 

“You’d be within your rights.”

 

“Fils à putain,” Balthazar muttered, barely under his breath. “You don’t even feel guilty, do you?”

 

Dean had no answer to this. It began to dawn on him that he should feel some guilt for his role in Balthazar’s unhappiness. And yet he couldn’t find it in himself to regret a moment he’d spent with Cas. Even the worst of moments were precious now, and would remain so until Castiel was a living man once more. So there was no guilt, only sadness.

 

“I’m not sorry either,” Dean said out loud. He watched Balthazar’s hands clenched into fists. “You weren’t there. I was. In case you’ve yet to learn, life isn’t fair, and love rarely is either.”

 

“He swore vows to me,” said Balthazar.

 

“And he kept them,” said Dean. “He never told me he loved me as long as he drew breath. Until he died, he was yours. And what does it matter now? Until he’s back to speak for himself about the matters of his heart, neither of us has him. Death does.”

 

“And what am I supposed to do about him? I haven’t known him for five years. He loves you, which is evidence he’s developed extremely poor taste. And he didn’t even have the good grace to rescue me himself, that stupid, stubborn imbecile of a man,” said Balthazar. “Why am I even trying to save him?”

 

“He saved you.”

 

“I’m not a man of obligation. I’m a pirate. Castiel was always soft. Too virtuous for his own good,” Balthazar chuckled quietly to himself, a wry darkness to his mirth. “Half an angel, even. Christ.”

 

“Nothing is preventing you from leaving.”

 

Balthazar shook his head, finally pushing himself to his feet. He swayed a moment, and then stood firm and resolute. He might have smiled like a scoundrel, but there was something constant beneath it. Something honest.

 

“I’m not obligated to my vows,” he repeated. “But I intend to keep them anyway. That way, they still mean something.”

 

Dean shifted uneasily under Balthazar’s observation. Because at the moment of his death, Cas may have loved Dean more, but what was to stop him from changing his mind again? And Dean was afraid precious little about him would recommend him as the better choice.

 

“What happens when he comes back?”

 

“We both know the answer to that,” said Balthazar smoothly. He made for the door, and turned just before he left Dean’s room. “He makes a choice.”

 

***

 

_ Dean crawled forward on hands and knees, his thirst having stolen his vitality. He had been walking for hours now, and his head and lungs ached, and his mouth was parched, and the void that surrounded him became more inviting by the minute. More and more frequently he found himself tempted by the illusion of water, just off the path. Dean was not sure if his mind was tormenting him, or this was simply a feature of the road that led to the next world. _

 

_ It was not a road meant to be walked while alive. _

 

_ He did not even realize when he had reached the doorway, so consumed was he with watching his hands slowly inch forward beneath him. It was not until he had run headlong into the solid wood of the door that he looked up and found that he was at the end of the path. _

 

_ Eternities stretched before him. Heaven, a glowing white nexus of souls that hurt Dean’s eyes to observe for too long a stretch. Hell, a flame red pit that exuded such a chill that it made Dean shiver just to look at it. Purgatory was squashed between these two, a grey blur that Dean could not bring into focus. _

 

_ But swallowing each of these infinite realms was something bigger. Something Empty. _

 

_ But the door. The door was tangible. Understandable. Dean reached for the handle and pulled it open, desperate for some relief from his journey. Some sense of the world he had left behind. _

 

_ He opened the door onto a cliffside in Spain. One that was terribly familiar. _

 

_ Dean stepped onto the ledge in the cliffside and the door closed behind him, disappearing in all but silhouette. Dean stepped forward, looking towards the spot where he and Cas had sat after they had tired themselves dancing. But Cas was not there. _

 

_ And then Dean turned and looked out upon the water. What he saw took his breath away. _

 

_ It was Castiel, but it was more than he had been when he was alive. He was enormous, larger than the ship he had been captain of. He had seven faces, only one of which Dean recognized. His body was plantlike and sinewy, and his fingers dug into the sand like roots. He was, to put it simply, terrific to look upon. Horrifying and awesomely beautiful in equal measure. _

 

_ “Cas?” Dean breathed, and watched as the enormous creature slowly turned each of its faces to look at him. Dean fell still under the faces’ collective glare. He felt unwelcome. _

 

_ Suddenly, Cas in all his enormity is gone. And then Dean feels the tip of a blade pressing against his throat. Cas stood behind him, and Dean had no hint as to his expression, but he suspected, somehow, that it was thunderous. _

 

_ “Cas?” he asked again, doubt taking hold and making his voice waver. The blade pressed closer into the skin of his neck. _

 

***

 

“We’re getting close to the end of this dearie,” said Rowena, startling Dean from where he had been staring out into the ocean. “One way or another.”

 

They were being pulled along the windless ocean once again by Dean’s kelpie. Not that she was Dean’s, but rather that she seemed to have taken a shine to him. Dean was surprised by the depth of his own comfort in return. The sea truly had become a second home to him, he realized. And the kelpie was living proof that as he had learned to love the sea, it had accepted him as its own.

 

“I know,” said Dean. Rowena did not leave his side. “What do you want, Rowena?”

 

“You did na think it would be so simple as sailing off the edge of the world, did ya?” she asked him, raising an eyebrow. She leaned over the railway and pointed into the distance. “If we sail this way long enough, all that will happen is we’ll start travelling south again. In case ya forgot the world is round.”

 

“I did not forget.”

 

“Aye. I was hoping that five years at sea did na addle your brain too fiercely,” she muttered.

 

“We’re following the map that Gabriel left for… for Cas,” Dean said, teeth gritted as he forced out his late friend’s name. “I assume there will be a door.”

 

“You assume wrong,” she said, primly. “Castiel left part of the map untranslated, lest any of us get any ideas about charging into the afterlife after him. I saw as much in his mind while the both of you walked into mine. His fear that you would follow him.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“It means that there is a spell separating the world of the living from the world of the dead. And I know what it is, and how to do it, and who best to do it with,” she said. “And I also know this task we are pursuing is dangerous and could get everyone involved killed. So I need someone to assist me. I was thinking of that scholarly brother of yours and the mercenary who worked for my son. They have level heads, and they’re less emotionally involved. Spellwork requires a certain distance. A wayward passion can spoil even the most well crafted of magics.”

 

“You want Sam to do the spell?”

 

“I want Sam to do the second spell. The first I can handle fine on my own. All that I need to do is open a door. Your brother must do the second. He’s already agreed. The thirst of knowledge in that boy! It’s a wonder he lived to be seventeen,” she said. “Hunting monsters and being that curious is na always the best of combinations, you realize.”

 

“But why can’t you do it?”

 

“Because I must be part of it,” said Rowena. “Reviving a soul… it takes connections to this life. Strong connections. A mother, a son, a sister, a partner, a friend… The pieces of Castiel’s life that live on without him. I can tie our souls to his, and lead him back into the world we live in. However, it requires a great risk.”

 

“What kind of risk?”

 

“A risk you can’t take on, as you’ll need to go through the door so it can succeed,” she said. “A physical agent must deliver the spell’s container, and the spell will only take effect upon Castiel’s agreement to carry it. And then he has to come back himself. If he fails to agree, the spell fails and we return to our bodies. If he agrees, and fails to leave…”

 

“You fail to leave with him,” Dean realizes. “Rowena, I can’t ask that. And neither would Cas. What if something goes wrong?”

 

“Dean, my boy,” said Rowena gently. “He loves you, I know that for certain. But you’re not enough on your own to bring him back. He needs to see a life for himself again. He needs a family, not only a lover. Death has a way of clinging onto people. For the moment, at least, we are saving him from his eternal rest. He may want to stay.”

 

“He won’t.”

 

“He may choose to wait for you to join him there, rather than risk the pains of life again,” said Rowena. “It hurts, being alive. For all of us. Even those of us who no longer quite feel human. Maybe especially for us.”

 

She seemed withdrawn as she said it. Sunken into herself. Despite her height, Rowena had never before struck Dean as small. She had a way of speaking that made it seem as if she twirled in the air around you. It was, on occasion, a mite annoying to him. And yet she was so charming he found that easy to ignore. It was hard to think of her as old, she was so youthful in appearance and expression. Yet, somehow, old was the only word that came to him now. Her pained expression spoke of a life that was entirely too long.

 

“He’s not guaranteed to be bound for heaven,” said Dean. “They don’t know where to put him. He’s only safe here. Alive.”

 

“Aye,” she said. “You’ve mentioned. But he’s in a kind of heaven now. And he might not believe the truth of his situation. What wouldn’t you say to bring him back with you?”

 

“I wouldn’t lie,” said Dean.

 

“And perhaps the truth is Castiel sees his love for you as a burden,” said Rowena. She could not have chilled him more if she had stabbed ice into his heart. “Not only  _ you _ , Dean. There’s a time in some people’s lives when it’s easier not to love anyone. It’s hard enough to survive on your own, let alone take someone else’s fortunes into account. But Castiel chose to put all of us before himself. Especially you. He chose not to survive. It’s going to be hard to convince him it’s worth having to face that choice again. He didn’t want to die. I loved my son fiercely once upon a time. But that got overtaken by bitterness, and I wish I’d been rid of him before he understood that.”

 

Dean considered this a moment.

 

“What was it like?” he asked. “Giving Crowley away?”

 

“It was easy,” she said. “Easier than raising him had been. He had a better life without me. He’ll see that one day. And it may be that Cas thinks you would have a better life without him, as well. It may be that he’s right.”

 

“Then why are you helping me?”

 

Rowena blinked at him.

 

“As it happens, boy, I can be quite selfish at times,” she said. “I want him back. Same as Charlie, same as Hannah, same as you and Balthazar. He was more like a son to me than Fergus ever could be. He was my second chance. I loved him. And I miss him.”

 

She looked out to sea again, her eyes on the horizon.

 

“It would comfort me to know he knew that. In case it would change his mind,” she said quietly. “So I am going to do the spell, and anyone else who wishes will join me. And if Castiel will not leave with us, I will make my peace with that. But I must try something.”

 

There was nothing to say to this. So Dean left Rowena to her thoughts and went to fetch the book he would need if he wanted an audience with Death.

 

***

 

_ “Castiel, I traveled a damn long way,” Dean hissed through his teeth before the knife could cut deeper. Cas’ hand stopped in surprise. “A damn sight too long to be welcomed with a slit throat.” _

 

_ Dean breathed a sigh of relief as the blade fell from his jugular, and Cas loosened his grip enough that Dean could turn to look at him. In all his handsome wariness, there stood Cas. The two men stared at each other openly, each measuring the other. _

 

_ “You’re real,” Castiel finally said. He sounded sad. “You’re still so young. How long have I been…?” _

 

_ “Dead?” Dean bit out the word, unable to keep the resentment from his voice. “Not long enough that I’ve had time to forgive you. For what you did. And you have the nerve to pull a knife on me, when I-” _

 

_ “I thought you were another copy,” said Castiel, looking away. “A feature of my personal Hell.” _

 

_ There was precious little else that would have distracted Dean then, but Castiel’s ashamed admission made him pause. He looked about at their peaceful stolen moment, the cliffside by the beach and felt his throat begin to close up. Even though he knew it was Heaven, he could not help the pain that pierced through his being. _

 

_ “Hell?” Dean asked, his voice gone soft of bitterness and longing. This memory, this heaven Castiel was trapped in, had been the one night, the only one, that Dean had caught a glimpse that Cas had not only wanted him, but truly loved him. And Castiel proclaimed it torture. _

 

_ “I live forever in my regrets. In my mistakes. In moments with people I let down and failed to protect,” said Castiel, unable to meet Dean’s eyes. “And so many of them were with you. But here, you were just a puppet of my imagination, saying the same thing every time. I wanted it to be real. And when I realized it wasn’t, I only wanted it to stop. If I couldn’t be with you, I at least wanted to be at peace. Not at the mercy of this eternal torment.” _

 

_ “Cas. This is heaven,” said Dean. “Or at least, a fragment of it.” _

 

_ “It doesn’t matter what it is,” said Castiel sullenly. “It’s punishment.” _

 

_ “You think this is punishment?” Dean asked incredulously. “I had to watch you die. Ripped apart by hellhounds. There was nothing I could do to save you, and the only thing I could think of to honor your memory was to save the man you loved more than me. And then I read your last wishes and you…” _

 

_ Dean stopped himself, unable to speak further. Castiel still would not look at him. _

 

_ “I wanted to say it,” he said, at last. “Just the once.” _

 

_ “But I said it so often,” said Dean miserably. “Even when I didn’t say it out loud, I made sure you knew the truth of it. All you gave me was a postmortem confession and... this.” _

 

_ Dean stretched out his hands, gesturing towards the horizon. Dean could hear the echo of their laughter from that night, the drunken conversations of two men who were very much in love. Castiel looked about as though he could hear it too. And then he looked at Dean. Finally he had Castiel’s full attention. _

 

_ “How dare you call it Hell,” Dean finished. _

 

_ Castiel opened his mouth as if to retort, then closed it. Dean could not read the expression on his friend’s face, but if he had to name it, he thought he might say fear. The kind of mind numbing fear that leaves you slack jawed and thoughtless, and somehow prepares you for moments of truly stupid bravery. _

 

_ “I might have said it better,” Castiel muttered. “That it was Hell without you. The real you.” _

 

_ “Come off it,” said Dean, because it hurt too much to believe. Because he knew that Castiel would change his mind soon enough, and Dean would see to it that he did. Because Dean had more than just one life to save. _

 

_ “I love you, Dean Winchester,” Castiel said, his voice a little stronger. “I’ve loved you a long time. I think it started when you stabbed me, of all things. Or when you beat me in a swordfight. Or when we danced together. You very poorly, unfortunately…” _

 

_ Despite himself, Dean could not help but smile a moment at the insult. He should not have. Cas took it as encouragement. _

 

_ “I think I loved you all along. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Cas finished, and meant it. _

 

_ If he had only said this when he was alive, Dean thought to himself. But Cas hadn’t. _

 

_ “I came to give you something,” Dean said. Castiel noted Dean’s lack of response to his confession, and Dean noted the sadness that broke over his face. Instead of acknowledging the awkwardness between them now, Dean thrust a small hex bag from his trouser pocket and placed it into Castiel’s hand. Cas stared at it, uncertain. _

 

_ “What is this?” asked Cas. _

 

_ “Your way out,” said Rowena, who appeared beside him. She shimmered in the breeze, as if she were a mirage. “If you’re willing.” _

 

_ Cas stared at her, his eyes wide and uncomprehending. _

 

*****

 

The sea grew stormy as they approached the space between worlds, where the veil was thin and a door to the afterlife could be opened. Sam and Aileen paid close attention to Rowena’s instructions as she prepared both spells, outlining the spellwork for them again and again and scrawling out the pronunciation of each word. She made them repeat it until she was satisfied. Dean was surprised Aileen was able to do so well, and noticed that she would place her hand against Rowena’s throat and then her own to more closely imitate the sound. They were learning a great deal very quickly, and Dean hoped it would be enough to keep everyone safe while Dean carried their souls into the great beyond.

 

Assured that Rowena had the spellwork well in hand, he moved on to listen to Hannah’s calculations of when they would reach the position Rowena had indicated would be ideal for the spell meant to open the door. They were attempting to slow the ship as they approached, but the stormy conditions was making it difficult to control the speed of the ship. Dean commended them anyhow. Hannah smiled at him, more kindly than they usually were with him.

 

“I hope you find him,” they said. “And I hope you don’t kill yourself on the way. I wouldn’t be able to do what you are. Not for anyone.”

 

“That would make you the sane one,” said Dean. Hannah laughed, their expression dimming soon after.

 

“It doesn’t feel like sanity,” they said. “It feels like cowardice. But I like my life. I’m only willing to risk so much to return Castiel to his.”

 

They paused to adjust the  _ Grace of God _ ’s course slightly, and Dean took the opportunity to scan the deck. He saw Charlie and Jo openly fighting towards the starboard quarter of the deck, and he determined it would be best to see them next. Hannah caught his attention once more as the ship righted itself.

 

“I won’t stay for you, if this plan does not work,” they told him, their bright brown eyes boring into Dean’s. “I will wait until I determine it would be unsafe to wait longer with our supply level, and then I will turn around and leave you to your fate.”

 

“I’m glad,” said Dean. Hannah’s shoulders relaxed. “It’s your ship. It’s your crew now. You have a duty to them to keep them safe. Not push them into dying on behalf of some half-witted lug who tore his way through the veil before his time.”

 

“I rarely liked you, you know,” said Hannah. Dean smiled at them.

 

“You liked me well enough to teach me how to use a sword,” he said. “And you liked me well enough not to press your case with Castiel when you could have.”

 

“He wouldn’t have had me.”

 

“Even still,” said Dean. They scowled at him, but they were not truly angry. Dean smiled back, and tried to convey the genuineness with which he meant what he was to say next. “You make a fine captain, Hannah.”

 

For a moment, they looked as though they didn’t believe him. And then a new expression broke over their face. They almost looked pleased over their usual dour expression.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Dean bid his farewell then, and hastened toward the quarreling couple he had spotted minutes before. They were still sparring once he reached them and it took him little time to discern why that would be.

 

“-absolutely you will not. Cas is not worth your life. Nothing is worth your life-”

 

“He gave us a home, Jo,” said Charlie. “He was like a brother to me. If I can say anything to convince him-”

 

“According to Dean and Rowena, who are more desperate than sensible!” shouted Jo. “For all you know, the lot of you will be doomed to a watery grave, without a glimmer of a chance to save Castiel. I’m not losing you. I love you too much.”

 

“The spellwork is sound,” Charlie assured her lover. “I read it m’self. The only way it could go wrong is if Castiel agreed to leave and failed to.”

 

“And if he does fail to?” demanded Jo. “Do I just watch you grow pale and cold, nothing I can do to help? As your last breath leaves your lungs and your soul leaves your body and you lie there like a dead thing while I grieve you? You’re going to kill me too, Charlie.”

 

Jo was near tears of anger, and she was unhappy when Dean interrupted them. She turned away from both him and Charlie, trying to compose herself before speaking again. Dean gave her a moment before he began speaking.

 

“Cas would never leave Charlie stranded,” he said gently. “He would find a way out, if it took him the rest of time.”

 

“And by then her body would be dead anyhow,” said Jo.

 

“Time is different beyond the veil,” said Dean, remembering stories from his mum once more. You could be gone seconds to a fairy realm and return decades later. A man could burn in hell for four months and feel that it was forty years. “And Cas is an angel. He will be back soon enough.”

 

Jo was still unhappy, and Dean knew there was only one way he could correct this. So he told her what he knew.

 

“Jo, Charlie will come back. I can promise you.”

 

“You don’t know-!”

 

“I do,” Dean corrected her gently. “Or rather I don’t, but the three women did. The ones from the isle. Charlie survives. In every scenario. And so do you.”

 

The two women stared at him.

 

“And you, Dean?” Charlie asked timidly. Dean did not meet her eye.

 

“Sometimes,” he lied. “But the chances are better if Cas lives, and Rowena says Cas will live if we do this spell correctly and he agrees to. I know, even with my assurances, it is much to ask that you put your life at risk, Charlie. And Jo, it is a lot to ask that you step aside and let her do so. But I am asking. Please, let Castiel have a sister to follow home.”

 

Jo was quiet for a long moment. Finally she nodded.

 

“Aye,” she said. “But if Charlie is hurt in any way, I will kill you myself, Dean Winchester.”

 

“I’ll hold you to that,” said Dean. “Max, Alicia, and Benny are still resting?”

 

“For the moment,” said Charlie. “I’ll run and get them soon so they can help Hannah, Jack, and the others with the rigging.”

 

“No need. Jo can do it,” said Dean. Jo nodded her agreement. “You need to keep strength. It’s going to take a lot of convincing to bring Castiel back to life.”

 

Dean acknowledged his friends one more time, and went to move on. Yet, Charlie must have caught something in his expression, because she called after him curiously.

 

“And where are you going?”

 

Dean hesitated, but decided to be honest, if only to prevent Jo and Charlie from suspecting him of his true intentions with regards to rescuing Castiel.

 

“I’m going to pray.”

 

***

 

_ Behind Rowena were the shades of Charlie, Balthazar, and Jack. Castiel was most displeased to see him, Dean thought, if the vein on his temple was anything to go by. Castiel turned from them to Dean, and spoke calmly in what was evidently a heroic effort to hold back his pure fury. _

 

_ “What do you think you’re doing?” _

 

_ “This was Rowena’s idea,” Dean said, gesturing towards the shades. “She asked me to bring their souls to you, so they could lead you out. It’s your choice, but they wanted to make their case first. I walked into the afterlife alive for you. You owe it to listen to what they have to say, at least.” _

 

_ Castiel’s fury had calmed somewhat, though a slight twitch in his expression betrayed his continued agitation. _

 

_ “Alive. You came here alive,” said Castiel to Dean incredulously. “You might be the most stupid man I’ve met.” _

 

_ “That’s what I’ve been saying,” muttered Balthazar. Castiel ignored him. _

 

_ “And how dare you bring Jack into this,” Castiel continued. “He’s a child, Dean-” _

 

_ “I asked to be here,” said Jack. “We’re here to bring you back, and I couldn’t just wait to see if it worked. Claire would have been here too if Dean hadn’t made her get off the ship. And so would Alfie. You took care of all of us. We still need you.” _

 

_ Jack’s chin wobbled as he said it, making him appear more childish than he truly was. Without doubt, Cas was moved, but not enough to leave. _

 

_ “Jack,” he said gently. “None of the lot of ya need me. I taught you to take care of yourselves. Or at least I hope I did. Even if I did come back, every life ends. You can’t depend on me to always be there, no matter how unfair that might seem.” _

 

_ “But why can’t you stay with us for just a little while longer?” asked Jack. _

 

_ Charlie spoke before Castiel could respond. _

 

_ “I don’t care whether you should be alive or dead,” said Charlie. “We’re not guided by the laws of men and who says we should be guided by the laws of gods and monsters and devils? We’re here for you. And we intend to return with you. For once in your godforsaken life, think of yourself Castiel. Think of the sun on your face and the wind in your hair and the people you love. It’s time ye stopped running and started fighting. And every one of us here will fight at your side. If you’ll let us. Death can be just another one of our adventures. Harrowing, and then forgotten.” _

 

_ The combination of Jack’s earnest plea and Charlie’s rousing speech seemed to be having an effect on the late captain of the _ Grace of God _ , though Dean wasn’t sure yet if it would be enough. Their surroundings faded from around them, and Dean found himself on the achingly familiar deck of Cas’ ship. Rowena stepped forward then. She embraced Castiel, hugging him tightly and patting his head before stepping back to look at him sternly. _

 

_ “Come home, boy,” she said. “We’ve got mischief to do yet. And I need you for most of it.” _

 

_ Balthazar spoke last, and when he did, Castiel could not help but drink in the sight of him, alive and well. Dean did his best to ignore the burst of jealousy he felt. It was best that Cas saw what was waiting for him on Earth. It was best that Cas knew what he could go back to. _

 

_ It was best that Dean was not first among that number. _

 

_ “You spent five years trying to save me from certain doom,” he told Cas. “It’d be awfully rude not to let me return the favor. Besides, these lot would be unbearable if you didn’t come. Would you really condemn little old me to their moaning? It’s three weeks back to land and they’re going to drive me stark raving mad with their sullenness.” _

 

_ Castiel muttered something rude in response to this, though it wasn’t without a certain fondness. _

 

_ “I don’t know why you would…?” Castiel asked Balthazar. In lieu of a response, Balthazar reached out and grasped Castiel’s left hand firmly. “I don’t… You read what I wrote. I meant it. I still hold affection for you, but no more than that-” _

 

_ “Let me look at you a moment,” Balthazar interrupted. Castiel sighed. “Ah, just as ugly as I left you.” _

 

_ Castiel snorted, despite himself. Even so, he released Balthazar’s hand and turned to Dean. _

 

_ “And you?” he said. _

 

_ “And me what?” _

 

_ “You want me to come back with ya?” _

 

_ Dean wished he could speak everything that was in his mind, but there was too much and too little time. The words he was about to say were a betrayal, but they were necessary. And Dean found now that there were few boundaries he wouldn’t cross in the service of those that he loved. So he spoke the words Castiel needed to hear to commit himself to returning to the land of the living again. And once he had committed, the fates of Rowena, Charlie, Balthazar, and Jack would tie him to carrying out his decision. Dean only had to keep the truth from him for a little while longer. So he met Cas’ eyes and told him what he needed to hear. And it was the truth, if not the whole truth. _

 

_ “Yes,” said Dean simply. “With all my heart.” _

 

_ Castiel swallowed, his eyes roving over his little corner of Heaven. His little corner of Hell, if he were to be believed. And yet he wanted to stay, as if he wanted to continue punishing himself. As if he still felt he deserved it. _

 

_ “If I go back,” he said, looking at them all. “I’ll still be an abomination of nature. Hunted for who I am. I’ll still be a burden to everyone I meet.” _

 

_ Rowena shook her head stubbornly. _

 

_ “You were never a burden, child,” she said. “Not to anyone but yourself. Every man is more than the circumstances of his birth. Stop asking for forgiveness and start living. Not because you owe it to us. Because you owe it to yourself.” _

 

_ Cas swallowed sharply. He met each of their eyes in turn, and then seemed to come to a decision. Hesitantly, he reached out to take Rowena’s hand. Jack took his other hand, and Charlie and Balthazar both rested theirs gently on his back, tying themselves to him. Now their souls would pull him towards life once more, if he let them. Cas began to walk, and his steps grew lighter the further he went. _

 

_ He would have a price to pay, Dean knew. He would have to give up something of himself. But he would do it because he must. Because not doing so would mean the deaths of so many he held dear. _

 

_ Cas did not realize Dean was not following him. He did not see the door that opened for Dean near the starboard side of Cas’ heavenly rendering of the  _ Grace of God _. And Cas did not see Dean open it and disappear behind. _

 

***

 

Dean returned from his private prayers to the deck just before the spells were to be started. He was grimly satisfied with the promise he had extracted from Castiel’s estranged father, the archangel Gabriel. He could only hope now that his machinations had worked and the entirety of his plan would fall together. He had done what the wise women told him, and that would have to be enough. No one else seemed to suspect why he had been missing, and Dean was relieved he did not have to face his companions’ questioning. If Sam or Mary were to learn of what he had done… Happily, they did not know and Dean felt no compulsion to tell them. They would learn soon enough what fate he had consigned himself to.

 

In any case, the rest of the  _ Grace of God _ was too busy keeping the ship on a steady course towards the doorway Castiel’s map had indicated. Once they were in a fine position, about a mile out from the Veil, Rowena began the first spell. She chanted in strange tongues, cutting her hand and spilling her blood over the spellwork she had carefully committed to page. The text slowly faded into a deep violet, to match Rowena’s eyes. She blinked at the horizon, and an enormous rupture formed. It was jagged, blinding bright, and large enough to swallow the entirety of the ship.

 

“Quickly now,” she said swiftly, gathering the others around her. They sat as if four points of the compass, with Dean at the center holding a bag into which their souls would be placed. In the northernmost corner sat Rowena, the sky figure, the parent, the mother. To the east was Balthazar and to the west was Charlie. Jack completed the compass, sitting cross legged and stiff faced in the southern quadrant of their spell.

 

Rowena handed each of them a slip of paper to be read, and instructed Sam and Aileen, who had been busy preparing the spell in a small cauldron, to come closer so they could finish the spell with the casting words. They worked quickly, and Aileen had soon gathered a goblet of potion for Dean and each point of the compass.

 

“Drink only after Samuel has finished speaking the last line of the spell,” she said. “I shall speak first, and Dean shall speak before Samuel. Otherwise the order does not matter, but do not interrupt each other or fail to speak your piece in one breath. We do not want to tempt failure. Cast not with haste, but with intention.”

 

She looked each of them in the eye, and then looked to Sam and Aileen.

 

“You may begin,” she said. Sam and Aileen cut their hands and let the blood drip over Rowena’s second sheet of spellwork. It glowed a bright gold, seeming to dance through the air in a mirage that fascinated Dean with its beauty. He tore his eyes from it when Rowena began to speak her part. “You protector of the sky, may there be given to me the air which is in him, for I am she who seeks out her son in the land of the dead. I have spun my magics so that my soul may be tied to his. If I grow, he grows; if I live, he lives; if I breathe air, he breathes air.”

 

Rowena finished her incantation with a final gasp, then collapsed backwards onto the ship, her eyes empty of life. From her mouth emerged a perfect sphere of golden lilac light, which floated gently through the air and placed itself snugly in the pouch Rowena had given to Dean for safe keeping. Dean resisted the urge to touch her soul, though the impulse was strong. Dean turned to Charlie, who began to speak next.

 

“To me belongs this man. He has gone in as a falcon, he will emerge as a phoenix, the god who worships Ra. Prepare a path for me, that I may enter in peace into the beautiful West, for I belong to the Lake of Horus, I leash the hounds of Horus,” Charlie stopped suddenly, her eyes gone wide and fearful. Dean turned and saw what she did. The rift was closing much too quickly. At the speed the ship was approaching the rift, there was little chance Dean would make it through safely. Charlie shook her head firmly, ignoring the peril and valiantly finishing her part of the incantation, determination overwriting her features. “Prepare a way for me, that I may go in and collect the brother of my life.”

 

Charlie fell, and from her lips came a sphere of apple red. It landed beside Rowena’s soul, glowing sharply against the brown leather pouch. Dean looked to Bathazar, who began speaking.

 

"Praise to you, in your rising,” said Balthazar, reading steadily and quickly as the storm worsened around them. As the rift closed, the air swirled around them, agitating the clouds and the sea. Dean feared they would soon all be swept from the ship as a great wave crashed into the hull. “Rise, rise. As Ra rises, so shall you shine at the dawn of the day. May the gods raise you from your double-dwelling. The  _ sektet _ draws onward as Ra comes to the heavens in the  _ atet _ with fair winds. Rejoice, rejoice as Ra rejoices. Your sacred ship advances in peace. The heart of your partner rejoices."

 

As he finished, Balthazar fell, and a light blue sphere emerged from his throat, joining Charlie and Rowena’s souls in the hex bag Dean kept clutched to his chest. Before he could even look to Jack, the boy was speaking. He spoke as if he could raise Castiel with his voice alone.

 

“O you soul, I have come that I may see you; I open the Netherworld that I may see my father and drive away his darkness, for I am beloved of him,” shouted Jack over the din of thunder and the shouting of the crew. Rain and hail began to beat down around them as Jack finished his piece of the enchantment. “I have come to see my father. I have opened up every path which is in the sky and on earth, for I am the well-beloved son of my father. I am noble, I am an  _ akh _ , I am equipped. All you gods and all you  _ akhu _ , prepare a path for me.”

 

And as the others had, Jack fell into a deep sleep. His soul was a mottled silver grey at first, but changed rapidly between several different colors. It was less defined than the other souls had been, in flux. When it landed in Dean’s pouch it had settled for the moment on a pleasant orange. Dean shut the drawstrings of the pouch before he could become too entranced by the transformations. He needed to complete his portion of the spell before the door closed entirely or someone was thrown from the ship.

 

“I am the phoenix, the soul of Ra, who guides these souls to the Netherworld where they may go forth,” said Dean sharply. He focused his intentions as Rowena had warned, and thought only of Cas. Of the man that had so beguiled and frustrated him. Of the man who had shared in so many of the defining moments of his life. Dean finished the spell and he felt the power of it flow through him. His friends’ souls became attached to him, and he held the hex bag closer to him, protective of their vulnerability. “The souls on earth will do what they desire, and the soul of Castiel will join them if he desires.”

 

All that was needed now was for Sam and Aileen to lock the spell. The two spoke quickly together in the same tongue Rowena had used for the first spell. It was unintelligible to Dean, who waited only long enough for them to finish before he raced to Hannah to see if they might be able to sail the ship faster.

 

Aileen and Sam kept watch over the empty shells of Rowena, Charlie, Balthazar, and Jack. They still breathed, but there was no life to them. Dean hoped that Rowena was correct that they would be safely returned once Castiel was living once more. He could not bear to see his friends’ bodies living without them. It disturbed something deep within him to witness their emptiness.

 

Thankfully there was no time to dwell on the wrongness of it. The Veil was closing, and Dean needed to pass through. So he climbed the netting of the ship in hopes that he could better judge the best strategy for moving past the rift.

 

And that was when he was thrown from the boat, and by some miracle managed to pass into the land of the dead.

 

***

 

_ Hell was… cold. _

 

_ Dean’s breath frosted white before him, and his arms pimpled with gooseflesh. He shivered, shaking his limbs roughly in an effort to warm himself. He wished he were dead so he could not feel the cold. Then again, it was Hell. Who was to say he would not feel the cold even when he was dead? _

 

_ All around him burned fires, but they did not illuminate. Hell was full of half seen horrors, and it was with growing unease that Dean realized the path that had opened up for him led him past many of them.  And it was not what Dean saw, but what he heard that filled his throat with rising bile and dread. All manners of people, from children to the wizened and elderly screaming for someone to save them. Dean’s heart ached with the sadness of it, and he took their voices with him, carrying the burden of it across his shoulders. Soon his own misery would overtake theirs in his mind, but for the moment he felt the need to carry each voice with him. As if it might lessen their suffering, if only for a moment. _

 

_ So, even as the air grew ever more frigid, and Dean’s feet began to drag with tired numbness, he kept walking. He had a deal to make, and there was no use in losing courage now. He had already come this far, and if he were to damn himself he’d prefer he get something for it. _

 

_ Slowly the screams began to fade away, and in their place came the whispers of the foul mouthed Sluagh. Demons and devils who took pleasure in taunting Dean, in repeating back to him every uncharitable thought he had ever had. Who knew, somehow, fears that struck deeper into his heart than he had confided in anyone on Earth… _

 

_ Dean’s breath came quicker, as if it had only just occurred to him how very afraid he should be. But he set his face into an expression of stoic determination and continued on. He could not fail in his endeavor. He could not turn back. He knew there was pain coming and he knew he would not outlast it, but there was little purpose in sacrifice if it was not for anything. He needed to be clever first. And then he could break. _

 

_ “And then you will break,” one of the Sluagh whispered to him, spiny fingers reaching out branchlike to brush against Dean’s shoulder. They cut deeply, but Dean did not flinch. He walked forward, knowing the end of his path would come sooner rather than later. He could feel the impatience in the air around him. These creatures wanted to hurt him, but they needed something of him first. Himself, freely given over. _

 

_ His soul, sold into their possession. _

 

_ Finally, Dean reached a crossroads. He stopped there in confusion, uncertain which direction to go. He need not have asked. This was not an obstacle. It was his destination. _

 

_ A thin lipped, bony man rose in a small rush of smoke from the ground. He surveyed Dean curiously, as if cataloguing every observation to be considered at length at a later time. He approached Dean slowly, and lifted his chin, examining his face. As he did so, the man’s eyes blinked milky white, and his thin lips stretched into a wicked grin. _

 

_ “Sluagh,” Dean said in acknowledgment. The man nodded, magicking a table and two chairs before the both of them. Warily, Dean sat. He knew the worst was yet to come, and yet he could not keep his muscles from locking up with fear. The man before him had eyes that spoke of worse crimes than even Dean had witnessed. “I am here to cut a deal.” _

 

_ “You have nothing to trade,” said the Sluagh slyly. His voice lisped through an easy imitation of Dean’s accent, as if to mock him. Ignoring the taunting, Dean leaned forward, hoping the desperation he felt was not too obvious to the demon. _

 

_ “I do.” _

 

_ “Your soul was sold to the fae. I am sure they will be pleased to have you returned to them. Though if they let their prize wander into Hell alone, they will be unsurprised to be given back a man in rather a different state than he arrived,” the Sluagh lisped, and Dean shuddered at the horrific intentions behind this. There was no one to save him, Dean remembered again. He had to give up his very freedom and happiness of his own free will. It was the only way to save Sam. _

 

_ “And later it was acquired by the archangel Gabriel,” Dean said, which did not phase the Sluagh. “But it was promised back to me should I manage to return his son to the land of living.” _

 

_ As Dean spoke, a vibrant sphere appeared before the both of them. It was grass green and bronze scaled, and it shocked Dean a moment to realize he was looking at himself. The center of his being. For a moment self preservation nearly overtook him as the urge to protect this manifestation of his being pulsed stronger than even his love for his family. But then he put it aside and resigned himself to his planned course of action. _

 

_ It was the only way to save Sam, he reminded himself. _

 

_ “Which I have done,” Dean said softly, realizing his soul’s presence here was proof that Castiel lived again. He hoped Cas would be happy, once he had accepted how Dean had lied to him. It would not be easy, but there were so many people that loved Cas. They would be more than enough. He did not need Dean. He never truly had. “So my soul is mine again, to do with as I wish.” _

 

_ There was a new gleam in the Sluagh’s eye now. Dean did not like the look of it. _

 

_ “And what do you wish?” he asked. _

 

_ “My soul promised to hell in place of my brother’s,” said Dean, the words coming quickly now. “And my entire family released from any obligations it owed. My soul for their freedom, and a promise that you will never allow them to deal with Hell again.” _

 

_ The Sluagh frowned at him now, considering. _

 

_ “For three generations only,” he said. Dean’s stomach twisted, but he nodded. He was lucky to get as much as he had asked for in the first place. The price would not be worth it, of course, but this would be enough to be grateful for for now. “Do you know how the Sluagh settle a deal?” _

 

_ Dean did not, but the Sluagh did not hesitate to show him. The demon pressed his clammy lips against Dean’s, and Dean did his best not to gag over the scent of sulfur that overwhelmed him. It was over quickly, that much he was grateful for. Then he felt a pain in his chest and looked down, astounded to see he was bleeding profusely from a large hole in his chest. He looked up to see the Sluagh tear off a piece of Dean’s still beating heart with his teeth, the red stain of blood smeared across his mouth. _

 

_ “You walked into Hell alive. I could hear your heartbeat,” said the Sluagh. He clucked mockingly, as if gently disappointed in Dean. “Did you think we would let you walk out? Claim your soul only upon your passing? Wait?” _

 

_ Dean fell to his knees. He hadn’t hoped that he could make it out, exactly, but that had been his plan of escape. Of course Patience, Mosley, and Contessa had told him it would not work, but he could not live with himself if he had not tried. Then again, he would not live with himself either way. _

 

_ The world faded around him, and then slowly came back into focus. He looked the same now as he did before, but his physical body was gone, burned to ash. All that remained was his soul. Hell was still cold, but the biting pain of the hooks that held him aloft distracted him from that particular discomfort. Miserable though he was, he did not know the true meaning of the pain yet. _

 

_ But he would. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The spell they use to get into the afterworld is partially based off of translations from The Book of the Dead. I thought it would be interesting to use considering Anubis' inclusion in SPN canon.
> 
> If you enjoy this story, I would love to hear from you! :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: body horror, mild descriptions of torture (on par with the show)

_ It’s time to go home, Dean. _

 

***

 

The first breath Dean Winchester breathed was too dry. He coughed heartily, choking up sand and attempting to spit out an enormous amount of sea water. Once he had managed to breathe properly again, he began to take stock of his surroundings. His clothing was waterlogged and worn. He looked as though the ocean had swallowed him and spit him back out again, which very well might have happened, considering the things Dean now knew.

 

Considering the things Dean had now done.

 

Just over the rush of the ocean coming in, Dean could hear the faint sound of someone else’s breathing. Wearily, he lifted his head to see who was stranded here with him. There was just enough light in the early morning to make out the shape of a second man washed up along the shore. Dean had not looked about yet, but he had the feeling from the way the waves were coming in that the island was small and unlikely to have much in the way of resources. He put aside this worry, instead crawling towards the body laying face down, half in the water.

 

Dean lifted this man up, and pulled him from where the tide had been dragging him off the beach. Once he was clear, Dean set him down to have a look at him. Perhaps he should have been surprised it was Castiel. But he wasn’t. Something tickled at his memory, something sharp and painful. Dean ignored it, instead placing his palm over Castiel’s mouth to make sure he was still breathing. Satisfied with the result, Dean sat himself down next to the man and waited. At some point, his eyes drooped closed and he fell into a deep sleep.

 

Dean was woken later that morning, both by the light of the noon day sun and a sharp prod at his side. He looked up at Cas standing over him, intensely relieved, irritated, and somehow frightened in equal measure. Distantly, he realized they were further from the shore than they had been, and wondered if Castiel had moved him or if the tide had gone out. The thought was gone quickly as Dean’s focus turned entirely to Cas. Once Cas saw that Dean was awake, he ceased his poking and stumbled off on his own for a while. They had yet to speak a word to each other. The truth was, Dean didn’t know what to say.

 

He didn’t know what had happened to him yet. After he’d crossed the Veil. But he knew it hadn’t been good. He could feel the guilt of it, the fresh buried rotten guilt of it all, sitting in his chest. But without the specifics he could not apologize. Nor did he get the sense it was the sort of crime one could apologize for. There were some actions too far beyond the scope of what was understandable as to be unforgivable. Dean feared he had committed one of these.

 

Finally, Cas returned. He looked at Dean a moment, and then back out to the horizon.

 

“There’s no fresh water here,” he said at last. Dean stared at him. “Are you mute?”

 

“No,” said Dean. He had been briefly, when he was a child. But Cas knew that. Dean had told him that he had been unable to speak for several months when his mother had fallen ill. She had gotten better, and whatever had overcome him had gone, never to plague him again. But as there had been then, there was something deeply unsettled about Dean. He did not feel at all well.

 

“Are you going to thank me?”

 

“Thank you for what?” Dean asked. Castiel stared at him incredulously.

 

“I saved you,” he said. And with that, Dean began to remember it all. Though he wished that he didn’t. “I gave up the sea to live when you told me to live. And I gave up the sky to see you again. I renounced my parentage and whatever power that gave me. All I am now is… a man. If that.”

 

Cas seemed to sink into himself as he admitted this. Whether he was ashamed or disappointed or merely shocked, it was clear that he was not used to thinking of himself as a man. He had so long been a son of a sylkie and an angel. Perhaps with parentage like that, being a man felt a lot like being nothing. Dean felt as if his own worth was little more than that.

 

“You should have kept the sky,” said Dean, looking down. He lifted a handful of sand and watched as each grain slipped through his fingers. “And you should have left me to rot.”

 

“Dean,” said Cas curtly.

 

“You should have,” said Dean. “I didn’t ask you to come for me. I did what I had to do for my family and I paid the price tenfold. And you… You brought me back. Knowing what I… what I did to trick you. And what I did after. I have to live with that now. Why would you do this to me?”

 

“Because you told me to live, first,” said Cas. “And I didn’t want to live in a world without you there. You have regrets? You made mistakes? Why should that be of consequence to me? You’re alive and that’s what matters.”

 

Dean bit back a retort. There was no purpose to this discussion now. Dean lived and breathed. He was not the kind of man to stop his own heart, and he would continue to live and breathe for the foreseeable future, however much that might hurt. What use was there to berating Castiel over it? They would be free of each other soon enough, when they died of dehydration. Castiel would go once again to Heaven, whose claim would be strongest on him now that he was mortal. And Dean would return to…

 

But it was best not to think of that.

 

Instead they searched the small rocky isle they found themselves stranded upon for relief from the sun. Their skin was beginning to redden in the midday sun, and there was no vegetation to provide food or shelter. At last they happened upon a small cave which was large enough for both to sit comfortably.

 

“Rowena will find us,” said Castiel, gruffly reassuring in the face of Dean’s silence.

 

Dean only nodded. He knew she would. Whether the  _ Grace of God _ was close enough to them to arrive in time to save them was another matter. Magic can do much, but no one could shorten a week’s journey to three days.

 

“Not the worst company to be dying in,” said Dean. This caught Castiel’s attention.

 

“I wish I could send for someone better.”

 

He said it with such sincerity, it took Dean aback. Cas did not hesitate to be cruel when he needed to, nor was he the kind of man- now that he was a man- who would renounce violence. And yet a few well placed words and Dean glimpsed the true depth at which Cas examined himself. His words and actions might be ill-considered, but they were always considered. Cas had saved him not as an impulse. He had made the choice with steady deliberation, whatever consequences that choice might incur.

 

But Dean would not thank Cas for saving him. He did not want a reprieve from the rack. He wanted never to feel again.

 

Now he had, if any rescue attempt were to fail, three days on Earth to wring as much pleasure out of his existence as possible before returning to the fiery depths of Hell, knowing full well the realities of what that meant. And he had to spend those three days with a man who occupied the majority of his living thoughts. A man who loved him, who wanted him. The impulse to take any comfort Cas had to offer was strong.

 

But as twisted as Hell had left him, Dean still knew right from wrong. It would be wrong to take advantage of those attentions, because Dean knew his own thoughts would not be with Cas. They would be on the pain he was sure to receive when he was sent back down below.

 

Pain was all Dean knew now. To learn something different would take time he didn’t have. He didn’t want Cas’ last memories of him to be one more way he had hurt him. Not again. It was bad enough that now Dean’s last memories of Earth might be knowing that all his sacrifice had not been enough to save his friend.

 

They went to sleep hungry that night. Perhaps if they had not been so distracted by their hunger, they might have accounted for the tide coming in.

 

***

 

_ It was with the last stone placed on top of the pile that Dean felt his ribcage finally split. Were he alive, he would have suffocated hours before. But he was not alive. The only remnant of living left to him was sensation, so that he could feel the sharp edges of his bones poking through his skin and scraping against the large rock slabs that had been laid over him. The Sluagh responsible for his torture that day smiled down at him, his thin lips stretching over his rotten teeth. _

 

_ “You can make it stop,” the Sluagh reminded him. Dean could. All he had to do was answer the question. Answer the question that was posed before each slab had been laid down upon his chest. Hell thrived on pain, and to live in it meant either to feel it or to cause it. Dean had not yet moved on to the latter. But he would, the Sluagh liked to remind him. Everyone did. _

 

_ But Dean still had some notion that he would outlast Hell. So he said nothing. He got lost in the pain and ignored the question. If he had known what his stubbornness would bring him, he might have escaped notice as a lesser tormentor of souls. Nothing to be proud of, but the least damage one could do in Hell without having to suffer oneself. _

 

_ Instead, his story caught the ear of a soul long since damned. Indeed, one with a long felt hunger for revenge that Dean’s soul could help satisfy. _

 

_ A Sluagh who, when he had been a man, had once stolen a sylkie’s skin. _

 

***

 

Dean woke with a pain in his chest, and his fingernails tore into his shirt, as if trying to free himself from a great weight. He was cold, and he could not breathe properly. A fist beat down at the center of his back, and he struggled for air as he violently coughed up water for the second time in as many days. For a moment he thought he was in Hell once more.

 

Slowly, however, the pain lessened. The coldness, Dean soon realized, was because his clothes had been soaked through and the wind had picked up sometime in the night. It was not the whispers of the Sluagh he was hearing, but Cas’ quiet instructions that he sit up and continue to cough. Dean spit out seawater and bile until there was nothing left to cough up.

 

He and Cas were sitting atop the highest point of the island, of which very little was left above water. Dean did not like their chances of surviving a storm. Seeing that he was somewhat better, Castiel sat beside him, almost collapsing in exhaustion. He must have dragged Dean from the cave, and lifted him out of the water. Despite the horrific memories of hell Castiel’s efforts had awakened in him, Dean found he could not be angry. He was too relieved to realize they were only memories for now.

 

On reflection, Dean should have known he was not in Hell more quickly. If they were going to drown him, they would have done so properly. And they wouldn’t have let him stop drowning so easily. Not for a few days, at least.

 

Despite his relief, there was some disappointment at not having died also. Drowning in his sleep would have been quicker than dehydration. Still delirious from his near brush with death, he said this out loud.

 

Cas only looked at him at first. Then he put a hand on each of Dean’s shoulders and shook him, just the once. Dean broke the hold and shoved Castiel away from him. Instead of taking offense, Cas slumped back into himself. Figuring that was that, Dean did the same, focusing on his own hurts. When Cas finally spoke, Dean had almost forgotten the altercation.

 

“I don’t know how to prove that you matter,” said Castiel miserably. “I want to explain to you why it is essential that you live. But I don’t have words for it. I just know this world is a better place with you in it. I wish I could make you see what you mean to me. But I’m a pirate, not a poet, Dean. So I will do poorly in explaining, but I ask you to listen anyhow.”

 

Dean did not answer. Castiel waited a moment, and then went on.

 

“I told you I gave up the sea and the sky for you, and that’s true. But I would have given up more. I would have given up anything, because you are worth more than all I have to give put together. Whether or not I meant to, I fear I made you think of yourself in terms of price,” said Castiel, sounding ashamed. “What you might be worth to your family in return for ransom. I did that for five years Dean. I should have imagined what damage that did to you. I fear it’s my fault you felt your life for my own and your brother’s was a worthy trade.”

 

“Don’t blame yourself,” said Dean cryptically, not wishing to reveal his true feelings on the matter. Not least of all because he did not know them himself. His life was something he viewed in an entirely different context now. Those years of being held captive stood shining against his childhood as almost happy memories. They were the ones that had slowly been stripped from him, under the cold steady hand of a Sluagh who replaced them all with nothing. Who had hollowed Dean out, and turned him into a shell. “The first thing that ever happened to me was my mother trading me away. Why take all the blame, Cas?”

 

“Your mother made a mistake,” said Cas. “I knew what I was doing. And I know how wrong it was now. More than I did then.”

 

“What do you want from me?” Dean asked. The question was blunt. Perhaps Dean could be forgiven, as he had almost passed on for a second time moments before. Then again perhaps not, because the truth was he asked because he wanted to know. He was tired of guessing and second guessing at what Castiel wanted. Making him say it in plain English was as cathartic as it was frightening. But he had intended for it to hurt Castiel, at least a little.

 

“Nothing,” said Cas. “I didn’t rescue you to put you to some use.”

 

“Let me answer for you then. You want a lovesick boy who thinks the world of you,” said Dean. “I’m not him anymore. You brought back nothing.”

 

“No,” Cas began again. “No, I don’t-”

 

“You want Dean Winchester,” said Dean. “He’s dead. You brought me back instead. Same soul, same body, so you can be forgiven for being mistaken. But the moment I died they planted something evil in me. Something that took root and grew until it near consumed me. That is what you saved. And if you knew, you’d rid the Earth of it in an instant. Of me.”

 

“You will not bait me into abandoning you,” muttered Cas, visibly irritated now. “Dean, however you have changed-”

 

“I don’t know how to live knowing what will happen when I die,” said Dean. “Every moment of peace will cost me my sanity because I know what is waiting for me. I didn’t ask to be brought back, Castiel. So I’ll ask you one more time, what do you want from me? Speak plainly. I’m not asking again.”

 

Cas seemed to appreciate the weight of this request, because his brow furrowed and he did not answer for a very long time. He seemed to think to himself and think to himself until he was ready to answer.

 

“I want to see you smile again,” he said. “I want you to kiss me, and to know my only thoughts are of you. I want to fight with you side by side. I want to grow old with you.”

 

Castiel paused here to draw breath. And then he added one final desire.

 

“But most of all I want you to have every happiness. Even if that means I do not get to be part of them,” finished Castiel. “You don’t owe me anything. Not for saving you, not for… not for anything. I took so much from you, Dean. Your youth, your family, your sense of self, I fear… I understand if that is unforgivable. But please  _ live _ . That is the only thing I need from you.”

 

“I don’t know how anymore,” said Dean. “I’ve been an instrument of evil. Tasting freedom is more bitter than sweet now, Cas. What is the point when in a year or two or forty I’ll be back to singing on the rack?”

 

“You won’t be.”

 

“Liar.”

 

“Dean-”

 

“What power do you have to protect me? What power does anyone have? Hell laid a claim on my soul in place of my brother’s. If I don’t go there, he will. And on my worst day, I wish I could let him. Because the thought of going back there… it’s worse than anything you can imagine. But no day spent on Earth will bring me to betray him. So what does it matter whether I go back to the rack today or tomorrow or when I am good and fat and old? I will go back, and every moment until then will be lived in sick anticipation.”

 

Dean thought this explained his situation as well as he was able. Except Castiel did not look ashamed anymore. Instead, the smallest of smiles crossed his lips. Were Dean not so shocked to see it, he might have been angry.

 

“You fulfilled the agreement,” said Cas. “I made no such promises to honor it.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean your deal was bought and paid for. My actions don’t render it null,” said Cas. “The terms hold, wherever you might go in the course of your second after life. I stole you, Dean. And I have no intention of returning you to Hell. Where you go when you die… that’s for the scales to decide now.”

 

But Dean did not smile.

 

“Then I will go to hell anyway,” he said. He paused before he spoke again, wishing he did not have to ask. “When you came for me, did you see?”

 

The question seemed to fade out into the wind. For a moment, Dean imagined it lost to the waves. That his words dissipated into nothing and disappeared behind the stars. It would be better that way. To preserve some notion the Cas did not know.

 

“Yes,” Cas said at last, ruining whatever imaginations Dean had come up with in his silence. “I saw.”

 

“Then you already know,” said Dean. “I didn’t deserve a second chance. You shouldn’t have given me one.”

 

After that, the two men simply sat in silence, cold and miserable, as they waited for the tide to go out again.

 

***

 

_ Alasdair was different than the other Sluagh had been. The others had been doing their work dutifully, simply because they knew they must. Hell dealt in pain, and it was no use to try a different currency. So they tortured and they bargained and sometimes they even enjoyed it. But it was work. And Dean was determined not to deal in pain for the time being. He was an annoyance, but one among any number of annoyances. He evaded any sort of special attention at first. _

 

_ But he lasted longer than expected, to the point there were some whispers of him. Nothing to write epic poetry of, but a certain amount of begrudging respect was granted him by the Sluagh. Not enough to stop torturing him of course, unless he agreed to their bargain. But enough that he felt an unwarranted sense of success that he had not given in. That he bled and screamed and cursed each day, paying into the misery of hell. But never profiting from it, that was the important part. _

 

_ And then Alasdair heard of him. As any of the Sluagh heard of any number of minor annoyances. Perhaps he still might have passed Dean over for a more interesting subject of his work, but then he had learned a little more of Dean. And what he learned sealed Dean’s fate as little else could. _

 

_ You see, Dean had loved the son of a sylkie and an angel. And there were few enough of those. Alasdair still remembered his death at the hands of his would-be victim, the sylkie and an archangel working in tandem to burn his soul from his body so quickly he had not realized he was dead when he first arrived in Hell. His bitterness at his lost life had not faded in the intervening years (though they amounted to centuries in Hell), and it was with relish that he realized he could take his revenge out on the human soul that had delivered itself to Hell’s gates. It would be poetic, he thought, to torment someone the sylkie-nephelim Castiel loved so dearly. A few degrees removed from the source of his ire, but poetic nonetheless. Love had saved Anna from his wickedness, and now her son’s great love would be damned to the pain she should have faced. _

 

_ Or at least, this was how he explained himself to Dean as he flayed strips off his skin, one long piece at a time. Alasdair was different from the other Sluagh. He did not see the creation of pain as work. He saw it as art. _

 

_ And he thought of Dean as a canvas on which he planned to paint his own image. _

 

***

 

Dean and Cas still had not spoken as the sun came up and the tide continued to recede. It would be safe to rest a while in the cave now, but the stone would be wet and cold and the sun would not dry it out until the afternoon. So they stayed where they were. They would be too dehydrated to move very far soon anyway. It would be best to stay where they knew they would not drown.

 

Cas’ lips were dried and cracking. Dean suspected his own must look the same. Their skin, although tan from years at sea already, was beginning to pinken and scab from prolonged exposure to the sun. They were fast approaching the point at which they must drink some water, or they would not live.

 

With little else to do, they both slept through the morning. The sun warmed them, and sleeping replenished a certain amount of their energy, though both men knew they were in a bad way and would perish soon if help did not come. And it did not seem to be coming, though Dean could tell Cas had not yet given up hope. He had gotten good at that, Dean supposed, from his five years of setting his mind to rescue Balthazar from hanging.

 

Dean supposed it was a good sign that he could still be jealous. He hadn’t thought he had enough emotion left to him to even be bitter.

 

After a while, Cas decided to use what remained of his energy to explore some tidal pools on the western side of the island, to see if there was anything growing there that they might eat. Dean did not point out that it didn’t matter whether or not they ate. Thirst would kill them long before hunger became unbearable. It was something to do, Dean supposed. And Castiel knew anyway what the true danger was. There was no point in expending the effort to argue with him.

 

Castiel came back having found a number of clams, which they dashed open with rocks and ate raw. Perhaps Castiel was right to look for food, because now that his stomach was not empty, Dean found his mood improving somewhat, even if their situation was still hopeless. Castiel too seemed less grim than he had the night before, though he spoke little enough to Dean. Not that Dean had encouraged conversation.

 

It wasn’t until night had fallen that Castiel seemed to find his voice again. They did not have many hours left to them, Dean knew. He did not feel the need to fill the remaining time with talk and regrets, but found he could not deny Castiel. He had never been able to, he supposed. Even before he loved him, he liked him too much not to look after him. The strange fae who had happened upon a younger Dean and asked him how one went about reading and writing…

 

“What did you dream would happen?” Cas asked. “To those of us you left behind?”

 

“I could ask you the same,” Dean muttered. He rolled up his tattered trousers and stuck the lower part of his legs into the water. It was refreshingly cool on his burned skin.

 

“I imagined Hannah would take control of my ship and rescue Balthazar. And you would return with Mary and Sam to England. Everything else would go on much the same,” he said. He expected Dean to answer now. Whatever good that would do.

 

“Sam and my mum would be safe from the machinations of Hell,” said Dean at last. “And you would have Balthazar without distraction. He’d have taken you back, even knowing about me. You know that?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Aye, I thought so,” said Dean. “My family would be heartbroken at my passing, sure, but they’d learned to live without me already. No one needed me, not the way they needed you. Hannah is a fine captain, but they don’t love as fiercely as you. I watched the crew start to splinter in your absence. They would have righted it soon enough, but it would not have been the same.”

 

“I needed you.”

 

“Should I accuse you of lying again?”

 

“You can accuse me of whatever you like. I won’t take offense,” said Cas. “In fact, I insist you accuse me of worse. I took advantage of you.”

 

“You did not.”

 

“I did. I should have denied you,” said Cas. “I was weak. When you kissed me that first time… I’d never felt so strongly before. I wanted to find some way to cut it out of me, to hold strong to my vows. I blamed you for that, when the guilt should have lain solely with me.”

 

“I wasn’t very respectful of your vows.”

 

“Well, you did na make them, so I don’t see why that matters.”

 

It was a little longer before either of them spoke again. Dean pulled his feet from the water and lay back, looking up at the sky. They would probably die tomorrow morning, he thought to himself. It felt like entirely the wrong ending to their story. Though he hadn’t the faintest clue what the right one would be. Perhaps it was this pervading sense of wrongness, however, that finally convinced him to lay bare what he knew. Hell was waiting for him, and Castiel was not the only one who could be weak at the most inopportune of moments.

 

“I hate that I wish I could take you with me,” said Dean. “I hate myself for it, but Hell would not frighten me half so much if I knew you were there. I think I’d have my courage again, for what little that would do.”

 

“You aren’t going to Hell again. Not if I have to argue with St. Peter himself,” said Castiel.

 

“Or Death. She may want a word.”

 

“Or her,” Cas conceded. “I may be a man now, but I think you will find I am no less persuasive when I wish to be.”

 

“Cas, why did you come for me?” Dean asked. He had asked before, but now he felt as though Cas might answer honestly. Words of affection meant less from the captain than they might have. The truth would be more complicated, and Dean preferred to know it.

 

“What else could I have done?” said Cas. “I think, maybe, the two of us are meant to keep the other alive.”

 

“My life tied to yours.”

 

“Yes. That,” said Castiel. “And in other ways too.”

 

“We’re doing a poor job so far.”

 

“I think I’d live with you,” said Cas, as if he were not listening to Dean anymore. “If you’d let me. Some place where we would not be far from your mother or mine. Near the sea. I’ve never had a house before. I’d like to build one for you.”

 

“Cas, I think you’ve turned the corner as far as your sanity is concerned,” said Dean. “And what would we do in this house by the sea?”

 

“Live, mostly,” said Castiel. “Engage in terrible violence for monetary gain occasionally.”

 

“Still a pirate through and through I see.”

 

“You’d know well enough. Unless you truly still thought of yourself as a prisoner at the end.”

 

Dean blinked up at the stars, the smallest of grins on his face at the absurdity of that thought.

 

“No. Not at the end,” he said. “There was this man I wanted to impress terribly. I don’t know if he noticed.”

 

“He noticed,” said Cas. “By God, did he notice.”

 

“Thank goodness. I was left with the impression I’d made quite the fool of myself,” said Dean. “Cas?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“If we both lived… Would you stay with me? In a house by the sea, like you said,” said Dean. He felt his heart beating weakly, somewhere in his throat. It was painful, knowing that Cas could turn him away again, as he had every time before. But it was the good sort of pain. The kind you could only feel by living and loving without reservation. The kind Dean did not need to be frightened of.

 

“Without hesitation,” said Cas. “And wherever else you went, I could go with you.”

 

“I suppose I will have to live a little longer then. If I must.”

 

Cas reached for his hand, and gripped it tightly. Dean held Cas fast, and neither let go, even after they both began to weaken as their bodies suffered the effects of severe dehydration. They would sleep a few hours before the sunrise. And after they would be too delirious to speak further. Soon enough, Death would pry them apart, Dean knew. But it was nice to pretend as his mind began to fade that instead, soon enough, they would be at their house on the beach. It was something to hold onto.

 

***

 

_ Alasdair broke what bravery Dean thought he possessed. But he did more than that. He made Dean become the worst of himself. He played on Dean’s jealous thoughts, his worthlessness, his powerlessness, his lack of any control whatsoever until every word he said was carved into the crux of Dean’s being. Until Dean could not tell the difference between his own thoughts and those of the Sluagh anymore. _

 

_ The worst of it was that Dean was talented. If pain were an art, then Dean showed more promise than most. And it was because he could be kind. He dealt pain and empathy with the same hand, and his knife cut deeper for it. He could be at once his victims’ greatest ally and worst enemy. If he had done this only for survival, if he had not relished in it, perhaps he could have forgiven himself. _

 

_ But it had been so long since Dean felt he had freedom over his own actions. Even now he knew he was a pawn under Alasdair’s thumb, but at long last some semblance of power had been granted to him. One in which he did not fear the wrath of his father, or the indifference of his captain, or the weight of life and death over his brother. To deal in pain was not a compulsion. It was a choice. Or if it wasn’t a choice, it was made to feel like one. And Dean had had so little of that in life that it was a relief to know he was behaving as he shouldn’t. _

 

_ It was an illness. It was the closest thing to happiness left to what remained of him. He was not Dean Winchester anymore, he thought to himself. Perhaps only because it made it easier. _

 

_ The day a nephilim walked through Hell, Dean had just begun to work on a new soul. He had not realized it was Castiel at first. He had not realized it was anything but a monstrosity Hell had not yet shown him. Castiel wore a raven’s face, one of the seven Dean had seen spying upon Castiel in his heaven. It was not that detail that spurred Dean’s memory into remembering his old friend, however. It was the brightness of his eyes, full of mischief and sadness in equal measure. _

 

_ When Dean knew who had come for him, he had tried to run. But there was no running from a nephilim he soon found out. They could be more powerful than angels, if they wished. And Castiel had come to collect him. To resist would be futile. _

 

_ But Dean did not go easily, at first. And so he bought himself enough time for Castiel to be waylaid by an old enemy. _

 

_ Alasdair may have tasted some semblance of victory, turning Dean towards the path of a Sluagh. But what would that be compared to taking a more immediate revenge against his enemy’s son? _

 

***

 

Dean imagined his mother singing to him. He imagined water poured down his parched throat. He imagined his brother’s voice and the sway of the  _ Grace of God _ . He dreamed of happy endings and clung to each weakly, wanting to hold on a little longer to life after all. He dreamed of the red of Anna’s hair and the gold of Gabriel’s eyes, and wished for them to save their son, even if they would not save him.

 

When he woke, it was not in hell.

 

He was in a small bed, every inch of his skin covered in herb flowers Rowena liked to use. He shook them from him, and sat upright. There was no one there to greet him, and he sat for a while in his confusion.

 

“You should be dead, you know that?” said a voice, familiar and chilling. Dean turned slowly, and saw Death sitting at his bedside where she had not been before. She turned the pages of an illustrated book Dean did not recognize. One whose pages were glossed and impossibly thin. She frowned at him, closing her book and observing him closer.

 

“A thousand times over I expect.”

 

“Less than that,” she said. “But only just. Stories are made to be rewritten I suppose.”

 

“And you’ll have me one day, I suppose.”

 

“That I will,” she said. “As everyone else. But not today, Dean. I wanted to thank you for some interesting reading.”

 

It took Dean a moment to remember the book he had given Death. A book written by an archangel to his son. The unguarded secrets of Heaven. It occurred to him now perhaps that very much had not been his to give, even if Anna had agreed to it.

 

“The gift.”

 

“Yes. Your gift,” she said. She stood then and Dean took an unconscious step back from her. She did not revel in her power. She was her power. It did not matter whether Dean had the wits to fear her.

 

“It was all I had to give,” said Dean. His words sounded strange to his own ears. As if he were defending himself. Explaining himself. Billie observed him coolly, and Dean realized the foolishness of it. What did Death care of propriety? She would have all things, all knowledge eventually.

 

“There are wars to be fought yet, Dean,” she said next, smiling almost. It was not kind, but it was not cruel either. She considered him again, and Dean had the notion that he had grown in her estimation somehow. “And you’ll fight them. You wouldn’t know how not to.”

 

“I don’t know what that means.”

 

“You don’t need to,” she said. “You’ll see. Hell made you something more than you were. I don’t envy you the pain. But metal is made to be tested, to withstand. And life is not fair. Or else perhaps I would be the warrior and you would be the bookkeeper.”

 

“What do I need to do?” Dean tried again. But Billie did not answer him at first. She simply began to disappear, her eyes last of all.

 

“Wake up, Dean,” she said. And to his surprise, he did.

 

***

 

_ Alasdair fought with two blades, shorter than Castiel’s cutlass. He was quick, and his bloodthirst was more than Cas could hope to match. It was evident to Dean that Alasdair had been dreaming so long of revenge, there was nothing that would stop him now that an object of his quest for vengeance was in his path. _

 

_ He had certainly not stopped in his obsession to remake Dean in his image. What would stop him from destroying Castiel entirely. _

 

_ The duel raged across Hell, frightening all other Sluagh away with its intensity. There is no such thing as loyalty in Hell, not truly. And Castiel was fearsome as he had ever been. Skilled beyond what any man should be, quick-witted and strategic. Perhaps if he had known the ins and outs of Hell as Alasdair had, it would be a fairer fight. But he did not, and Dean knew how it would end even before the end came. _

 

_ It was a dirty trick that Alasdair played. He blinded Cas by forcing him to look into the worst of Hell’s fires to deflect what might have been a fatal blow, then knocked his sword from his hand. Castiel almost recovered in time, but Alasdair had his hand around Cas’ throat before the cutlass’ hilt was firmly in his grasp. It was evident then, that Alasdair would settle to choking the life out of his rivals’ son. Try as he might, Cas could not break free. _

 

_ Dean did not know how he mustered the will to do what he did next. Turning a hand against Alasdair meant he would return to the rack. He would be dealt pain until he had learned his lesson, until he was begging to enact the worst of tortures on other souls… And even worse than that it would be betrayal. He did not know how Alasdair had inflicted such loyalty upon him, but Dean did feel loyal. Perhaps in the way a kicked dog still felt loyal to the hand that fed it. _

 

_ Even still, Dean lifted one of his knives, and stabbed it through the neck of his torturer, his tormenter, his teacher. It sliced clean through and the Sluagh dropped Castiel. All of him seemed to glow a moment, as bright as the pits of Hell. And then he burnt out, nothing but a husk of what had once been a man. _

 

_ Dean could not look away from the fallen shade. He did not look away even as Castiel reached for him, and even as he felt the burden of Hell fall from his shoulders. He was pulled, like a fish on a hook, from perdition. But the guilt did not fade. And the horror was only pushed back, to be rediscovered at his leisure for the remainder of his life. _

 

_ He was not saved, not really. He was transformed. Into what he did not yet know. _

 

_ But he was human enough still to protest when Cas gave up his father for their lives. He gave up his wings, and his raven face, and his sway with the Heavens. The price was too high. But Cas did not listen. Or rather he did, and with a face like stone paid it in spite of knowing. _

 

_ Castiel the thief, the pirate, had stolen Dean Winchester all over again. _

 

***

 

Rowena and Mary were singing.

 

Rowena sang in a strange tongue Dean did not recognize. It was not quite Gaelic, and there were not enough similarities to pick out what magic she was weaving. His mother sang a psalm, which she had rarely done when they were young. She preferred whatever tune was most popular and had a troubled relationship with her Puritan roots, which she had abandoned when she married an Englishman.

 

But faith was faith, Dean supposed, as he blinked his eyes open. His mother wanted a miracle and she was soon to receive one. She might not be pleased to know she owed her praise more to Death than to God. If they were separate after all. Dean had not asked many questions of her, and he supposed she might be God as well, for all he knew. She had not been forthcoming with anything but further confusions, and he did his best to forget them, because they filled him with foreboding.

 

“Dean,” said Sam. He was the first to realize that Dean was awake. He sprang forward, his eyes alight with relief. “Oh thank God.”

 

“Thank Cas, you mean,” said Dean. He had trouble lifting himself from his sick bed. He gratefully took the water Rowena offered him and drank a little. He could have drank it all, but he knew he might make himself sick if he did. Aileen, who Dean had not seen behind Sam at first, took the cup from him when he seemed to waver in his resolution not to drink more. He smiled at her, and signed a thank you.

 

Mary was quieter than she should have been to see her son alive and well again. Dean did not question this. He went to Hell for her mistake. He did not blame her. But he knew between them would be a certain disquiet for the moment. It would fade, and he would make certain she forgave herself for whatever regret she held in her heart. But he was not up to the task just yet, and there was no use pretending to be. He only took her hand and pressed it to his lips, so she would know that she was as much his mother as she had ever been. She managed a thin smile in return. It was a promise of conversations to come. Of living and understanding and becoming their own little family again. Dean and Sam and Mary. And Aileen, if the way Sam’s hand was held fast in hers was any indication. Perhaps even John and Katy and their young son, someday. In that moment of awakening, Dean saw life again as it could be.

 

And then his thoughts fell to Castiel.

 

“Can I see him?” he asked. They all fell silent.

 

“He’s changed Dean,” Rowena spoke first. “He isn’t… When we found him, he thought you were gone again already. Balthazar has been tending to him, but he struggles to care for himself. We worried how he might react. If you did not survive after all.”

 

“You told him…”

 

“That you were gone,” said Rowena. “You can see him, but tread carefully.”

 

Dean did not wait longer, but staggered up from his bed. Sam and Aileen caught him before he could fall. The two each took one of Dean’s arms over their shoulders and helped him to walk. Dean did not hear the exclamations of those they passed. Alicia and Max’s relieved welcome, or Benny and Jack’s attempts to waylay him, or even Jo and Charlie’s anxious chattering at his wellbeing. He walked on instead, vaguely aware that they followed in his wake. They knew where he was going.

 

In the captain’s rooms, Dean saw Hannah and Balthazar first. They looked at him warily, each clearly concerned that Castiel would not react well to his presence. Dean ignored them as well. He did not care what they thought of him now. He knew Castiel would be well again. It would take time, and Dean knew it would take patience. But he could only think of what Cas had said on that cursed island. The two of them were meant to keep each other alive. What purpose that served to the mighty powers of the heavens or the depths below or Death herself did not matter. Love was its own purpose, greater than fate or destiny.

 

Dean believed there was a power in choice that nothing and no one could take from him. He had chosen to be cruel in Hell. He could choose to be kind on Earth. Becoming human again would be difficult. But he and Cas could do it together. True equals at last.

 

Castiel did not see him. He was occupied, obsessively sharpening his swords and maintaining his firearms. He looked thin, as if he had not been eating, but he was in better shape than Dean was. Even so, Dean loosened himself from Sam and Aileen’s support and stood on his own two feet, weak as he felt.

 

“Do you suppose I’m stronger than you now, Cas?” he said, marking the stiffening of Cas’ shoulders. “Now that you’re but a man.”

 

There was a tense silence in the room, a shared holding of breath. They did not know how Castiel would respond to Dean’s presence, having thought him dead. Evidently he had not taken the news of his death well for the first or the second time. Dean knew then he would need to prepare Castiel for a third time, so he might live on better. It was a very human thing to fear, the passing of a loved one, and he suspected Castiel had never really taught himself to fear it. Even with Balthazar, he had not really allowed himself to think of what might have happened should he really have hanged. And Castiel had nothing left to trade in exchange for Dean’s life, which was as it should be.

 

“Dean Winchester is not the kind of man to be a ghost,” Cas said at last. He turned, and saw Dean standing with the crew at his back. “I’ve been lied to.”

 

Hannah and Balthazar murmured something in response to this, but Rowena quietened them. They might as well not have spoken at all. Cas’ eyes were fixed on Dean, hunger, sadness, and hope warring with each other. Dean stepped forward with care, slowly so as not to stumble.

 

When he was close enough, he threw his arms around Castiel and held him tightly, as if any distance would be a burden. There was barely a pause before Castiel held him back. It was as if finally the world had been put to rights.

 

Castiel pushed him away suddenly, only to hold Dean’s face in his hands roughly. He inspected it, searching for some falsehood. Some evidence that his eyes were betraying him.

 

“It really is you.”

 

“I’ve been told I’m too handsome to be true,” said Dean. “Though not by you I suppose-”

 

Castiel kissed him then, stopping his jesting. Dean did not mind.

 

“Yes, it’s me,” Dean said, when Castiel finished with the kissing, seeming content just to look at Dean again, as if that were all he could ask of his life. “I was promised a house. It would be bad business to die before you could build it.”

 

“I love you,” Cas said, as if he had been waiting to say it. As if he were desperate to convince Dean of it. And it was true it was the first time he had said it while they both lived. The first time he truly risked himself in the saying of it. He looked, even now, frightened that Dean still would not believe him. He needn’t have been, because Dean did not need it said aloud as he had before.

 

He simply knew.

 

***

 

_ There were wars to fight, and they would fight them. There was healing to be done, and adventures to be lived, and more pain too, as there must be. And so Dean lived a life he might never have imagined for himself, but one he valued fiercely. And there was little more he could ask than that. Because when they rested and grew old, it was surrounded by family in a little house by the sea. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's finished. If you enjoyed this story, please let me know!


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